Have you ever stared into the eyes of a corpse that was still breathing?

A corpse not resting calmly in a casket,

but standing straight, pallid, rigid, bleak–

it’s quite a devastating experience I must admit,

especially when I realized this is not a gruesome dream.

–this is my reality.

The encounter took place when the sun flashed above my head,

confronting me like a single bulb,

both blinding and interrogating.

There was not a shadow to run away to nor a sanctuary for my brain to seek refuge in.

Well,

ignorance is bliss

until it offers you a dance.

Laying upon my cheek a kiss of death;

feet sliding along a floor that reveals itself to be a weak foundation,

underneath lies the one truth I had chosen not to look down at,

convinced that if I held my gaze up,

if I did not acknowledge the unstable ground beneath me,

I could somehow keep my balance.

But it was when this corpse slowly lifted its mask, flesh so familiar to me;

for it was my friend, my love, my other half–

the music suddenly stopped,

the guests gasped in unison,

my body became numb,

and it was at that moment that I discovered I had not been a reliable dance partner.

I had chosen to waltz around the room absentmindedly.

I had chosen to sway to the moans and the cries,

insisting it was just an off-key violin,

I had chosen to believe the corpse was fine,

okay,

alright,

not rotting with every step-

But a person can be standing right in front of you,

lungs breathing,

heart beating,

pupils glaring,

gracefully dancing–

yet not be alive.

And now I grieve.

Photo Credit: Riley Irwin