In the dark I am holding
a corpse in my arms of
the me that I used to know.
I can’t decide whether
to mourn or
rejoice.
It seems that with death
the natural response is to
wear all black and to cry
and to fly the flag at half mast
and to move on with grace but with obvious suffering.
So I do because I ought to
and what would they think
If I didn’t?
But I look in the mirror
and inside I don’t feel the loss that I should
and the funeral march in my head fades
and the trumpets ring out
and I can’t contain the unmistakable....joy?
How can I be joyful when a part of me has died?
Day after day I realize
I hated that face
And that fake smile
That now rests on the corpse
Of the me that I used to know.
The words that would stray from those thin lips
And the contemplations of that unbeating heart.
I think that with every death
Newness is waiting to spring up and take its place
The circle of life?
And so too, with myself.
Now that she is all gone there reveals the smile
That is true
And the heart that is fair
I don’t know how it happened
But I’m guessing it’s you
Who got rid of the girl that I knew.