The Funeral

June 1, 2016

Her sneakers were a vibrant yellow
The color of sun drunk paint and
Cockatoo feathers spit up
From a hungover tomcat.
Her friendship bracelet still swallowed her wrist
Strained strands from the summer she learned how to swim,
fraying at the ends now.
She's wrapped up in a
Menagerie of rainbow sparks and
Bright hues
A sick contortion against her marble skin,
You can't help but cry when you
Look at it.
There's still a scratch on her
Knee from the cement of the playground
And all you can think of is how
Much she hated small spaces

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