There She Is

-There She Is-
by
Keaton Foster



There she is
Dead
Deceased
A spoilage of meat
Indigestible to most
Unidentifiable to others
Trapped in a constant state
She will never escape
I didn’t kill her
Because I always loved her
And now she is gone
A carcass without a soul
One of God’s wonderful creatures
In a quickening spiral of decomposition
Before long they’ll be nothing left
She will rot away like leaves
No will know that she was here
In this shallowest of grave
At the edge of these dark woods
No one ever comes to this place
No one but me
The method of her death
What a hell of a thing
A slug through her skull
Instantaneous and brutal
A mind numbing ritual
For the man with his hand
On the trigger of her doom
She knew him well
But not well enough
She pushed him to the edge
And while he was there
She turned and walked away
Whispering as she left
You alone must decide
So he did
I don’t blame him
Nor do I blame her
The perpetrator of all fate
Is truly the one responsible
The man in charge
Dealing out all of the cards
Deciding who lives and who dies
Placing stones on our throats
Leaving us unable to breathe
Leaving us desperate to find relief
Forcing us to do things
That we would not normally do
Driving us to make choices with people
Far more dangerous than ourselves
There she is
Dead
Deceased
A rotting piece of meat
Carrion for animals with a strong gut
After her flesh is gone
Once her meat is consumed
Then her bones will be scattered
No one will ever find a single trace
It will be as if she just melted away
It will be as if she never existed
But of course she did
Because I have always known her
And so has the man that killed her
There she is
Very much dead
I didn’t kill her
But I found her
I won’t tell a soul
No one will ever know
I will come back each day
Detailing her change
Seeing the differences made
I will take effective notes
Never one to let a good death go to waste
I will stomach the stench of her decay
I will burden myself with the weight
Of knowing what truly happened to her
If anyone ask, I will play dumb
I will act as if I never really knew her
And as if I never once felt something for her
There she is
Dead
Deceased
A spoilage of meat
Indigestible to most
Unidentifiable to others
I’d have convinced myself
That she did not suffer
As the bullet raced through her brain
I think of it not as death
But rather as a release
A one way ticket meaning freedom
A destination handpicked for each of us
There she is
Very much dead
I didn’t kill her
But I found her
I won’t tell a soul
No one will ever know
I won’t, and don’t have the heart
To tell any of them about her
And what has happened
There she is…


There She Is
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014