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Scoot over, mama



I am not suicidal

but I want to lay beside you.

Do you have room for me in your casket, mama?

I know that it is designed for one, but I am tiny so maybe.. I can fit.

Scoot over, please.

We can make this work.

We can have a slumber party like we use to.

I know that it maybe dark in there but the light of our love can help us to see.

No we won’t have Netflix or popcorn but at least we’ll have each other.

I can not wait until the next lifetime to see you again.

I do not want heaven to be the next time that we hug.

so go ahead..

And scoot over.

Make room for me like you’ve always done.

Cemeteries do not have drive thrus or vending machines, but I will starve if it means I can lay next to you.

Our comfort will fill my hunger

so I’ll be alright.

I miss you so much.

Please let me lay with you.

I don’t need help digging up your grave, I’ll do it myself.

All I need is a shovel, gloves and the strength that your death has given me.

And I don’t need a key to open up your casket.

Our love will give me access.

And once that is complete,

I will take one leg

one arm

one tear at a time

and get in.

And I’ll lay down beside you.

You have been getting your rest.

And now I can have mine, with you.

We can take our rest, together.

You will be getting yours, physically.

And I’ll be getting mine, emotionally.

I can instruct my tears to stop…

At least for a minute.

Because I’ll finally be with my best friend again.

So scoot over, mama.

Let me get in.

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