untitled deathbed | a poem

I knew a woman all too well

and not at all

a woman who was selfless

she devoted her life to her dead self

and I never got to know

where she had been buried

the first time

*

this woman called my name

as she died

*

when she opened her mouth

her voice tried to reveal

her body’s truth

but the words were sterile nails

*

she never let me in

because she presumed

that I’d drown in the depth

that had torn itself into her

*

deathbeds are real

*

her voice was destroyed

because she stopped singing

because she stopped singing

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2021 | Instagram: @melpomenepaintings

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