Her body is there, so still
I imagine that it is cold to the touch, that her skin- dry, like paper
I imagine there is no softness, just angles and bones,
I imagine that there will be a soft sour scent,
that will linger on my clothes and in my hair despite me cleaning
I imagine her face is peaceful, at more rest than her life had allowed
I imagine that she is listening to these words they speak around me
I imagine she finds happiness in these lies
I imagine that she is at peace
I imagine that in this peace, she stirs, softly, a twitch around the eye,
I imagine she will smile, a cruel and wicked smile, so sure within her box,
I imagine this, but I cannot face it, so look away, look away.