This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Louisiana Tech chapter.
his sheets envelop us like a body bag but know I’m the one who wrapped his arms around me and traced the eulogy with my fingertips down his sternum, yanking the bag shut, and when the zipper got stuck and my feet get caught by the comforter I rip it up the rest of the way with my teeth so we can flip positions, rollover over, rolling in my grave, good girl, good dog, like bitch with her bone and no spine, digging my grave, making my bed and lying in it because this suicide is on a Tempurpedic mattress, tubes and tongues tied, nothing new can come from this, they will leave like always and I will simply sob and rot