Requiem

you wears your suit as boys of eighteen often do- scratching and pulling at the confines of your tie and wondering why you're dressing up for the dead

and the girl across the room simmers as she curls her fist into a tight ball and slowly unfurls it "you did this," she whispers in your ear pointing to the cheap casket that contains your target

she's vindictive and fiery because she's seen her friend fall, her sister gone.

and so right there in the room of somber black, she attacks, seizing the moment for herself and the fallen.

because today is the day that she stops the world stops the broken record playing the phrases of a girls' life and becomes more than a bejeweled, exotic turntable