i can’t face it

you died and the coroner said we couldn’t see you because you didn’t have a face.

i wanted to scream and vomit.

your mom held your hand through a body bag,

she saw the scrap of your tattooed chest,

and then they burned you.

endings were met with endings.

we buried my brother

and then they put you in a little vase,

and now some days i pretend you never died

and that you kept your face.

you kept those pretty blue eyes

and that sweet smile.

when in reality the only thing we kept

was moving.