Soul Funerals
You knock on my door
but I know you don’t really want in
so I press my lips to the crack
and speak to you of the skeletons in my closet
trying to frighten you away
but you’re not deterred
and I hear the rap of your knuckles again
I admire persistence
so against my better judgement
I let down my guard and invite you in
the cloying aroma of dying flowers hanging in the air
doesn’t seem to phase you as you cross the threshold
but you give me a quizzical glance
when I ask you to sign the guestbook
as if you don’t understand
what once lived in me has long since died
there’s nothing here to resurrect
and if there were
it can’t be done with words
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 
Breaks my heart tenderly.