You’re over there
Down the empty aisle that seems to go on for miles,
Surrounded by unfamiliar figures,
Unknowingly guarding the path with murmurs and stabbing silence.
Just like that night,
I can’t seem to move.
Their eyes
Drown me in condemnation and curiosity.
Their bodies
Held back by the perception of what mourning should look like:
Proper and well-kept on the outside;
Wrath and desire to p...