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Angel Around My Neck
Cross By My Eye
a short piece 
30th-Sep-2013 10:48 am
Setsuna
Candice

It had been a slow but steady journey to the macabre side of life. To have sarcasm drip like honey from the lips, to see and almost hope for the pessimistic outcome in events.
But not this, never this, this was morbid. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to go out for a nice dinner afterwards. All of these cars, were they all here for the same thing? It was unnatural, she would take no part in it. This sick parade, this morbid show, what good would come of this? These forced tears, were they all for her, she had never seen most of these people before, were they all for her.
She was resolved to never know, let others send her regards, her regrets, her words that were never enough and never right, never fully expressing the feeling of it all, she wouldn't speak in this. This was unnatural. She would never see her again, never say goodbye, never see how pretty she looked all dressed in white. Never see her parents cry, and all the flowers placed around.
She'll stay in the passenger seat and slide real low, she won't say a word or shed a tear even if they threaten to spill, she tries not to look at the doors and all the people that pass between, the light yellow in the night. All of the boys in suit pant and button up the girls in their flowery best. No not her, she veered to the black, the dark of it all, and stayed low in the passenger seat, checking the clock, waiting for time to pass. She wouldn't say goodbye, it never came near her lips, no words did, they knew her eyes too well. She wouldn't let them see, not them, they would never know, the lover for her, the loss of her, screams raced through her numb mind. Then the door opened and the driver slipped in and asked her one more time if she would go in. She shook her head and a tear slipped out, damn things, she buckled her belt and leaned on the window, never to see her again. She'd rather remember her laughing and smiling, running about, teaching her to ride a bike, not laid out in a pretty dress, with flowers all around, her eyes closed and her face serene before they forever close the lid of that wooden box.
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