Missa Viventium

I was 15 when I first buried her.
Along with a relative
whom I barely know.

While people were moaning for the deceased,
I was burning in pain. Severing
a part of me. So in the coven
I may place
a perversed concoction of feelings.

15 years of incompleteness
Has passed before another funeral caught me.
Walking in the front of the coven
I felt oddly out of place.

Yet my heart sank
with the coven of decayed flesh.
With every shovel,
a piece of her was bared

And suddenly I felt the pain –
It is as if
My body is lain bare
instead.

My past is my present,
And I have no future,
For she buried it with her.
So forever may I live
in that buried coven
With her

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