Standing in a church.
Four coffins rest in front of me.
My black gown caresses the floor as I walk forward.

I gaze down into the first casket.
There’s a pen and some paper. The masks of comedy and tragedy.
A script for a movie; tickets to a premier.
All the things I wanted to be; the things they told me I couldn’t ever do.

In the second coffin lay newspaper clippings.
Trophies.
Photographs of an older me.
Accomplishments I’ll never see.

In the third, there are pictures of my family.
They’re smiling and laughing and living.
The images flicker, and I see them crying.
And deep down inside, I can feel that I’m the reason for their tears.

I hesitantly walk over to the final coffin.
A boy I’ll never get to meet lies inside.
His eyes are closed, and I trace his eye lids; I brush his light brown hair out of his face.
I can tell that he was going to be the one who would love me.
But now, I’ll never know what truly loving someone, and being loved in return is like.

I crawl inside, with my unknown love, and close the lid on both of us.
Soon my breaths come in gasps, and I take his hand—it’s cold as ice.
Why do I hear people trying to open the coffin? This is the only place I want to be.
Here, beside one I never knew, being buried. I’m getting away from my broken dreams at last.