--procession--

we dressed them in thinned clouds— no lace, no hymns, just wind. innocence was light enough to carry in a breath. "careful, don't wake her." naïve had shoes tied wrong, "she liked it that way." the earth didn't mind. hope— never still, tossed petals as she went, still believing it was a game. "her new home will always rain daisies." no pallbearers. just memory folding paper cranes in the corners of our silence. by the road side, stood Hate. in tailored quiet, lipstick a stinging red. she dropped one white carnation on the soil— not mourning, just marking her work. she didn't stay. just smiled, as if to say: "what did you expect?" and walked off. thin heels clicking— her goodbyes. don't wait. for answers. we buried the tiny coffins beneath a tree that once grew letters to santa. we said nothing. the wind said enough. they said it wasn't murder. only "what happens when you learn."