We’re meant to mourn the dead
Not the breathing, not the living
But what’s the difference between you and a corpse
Your mute silhouette on your perfunctory visits?
They do nothing but rip open the wound
She becomes a marionette, playing happy in the hope that your living corpse comes alive and returns to her
He sits in silence, as if he’s shut mouth will contain the breaking of his heart.
We’ve meant to mourn the dead
Not the living, not the breathing
We lie to each other
We tell each other you give a fucking shit
For admitting the truth will kill them
And you won’t even mourn their dead corpses