Funeral

Mary was mispronounced dead, but that's because no one sat next to her numb body to check her pulse. No one knew her cause of death because no one saw her collapse. Her frozen smile was carved into her face, her cheeks were colored bright pink, as if she was still with them, as if they cared if she even breathed. She was dressed in her mom's favorite dress, which hugged her body's every curve, so the pastor could look at her unresponsive flesh for a bit longer. Her parents' mouths moved and gargled out beautiful sounds of love and care, hiding their daughter's scars under a suffocating pile of flowers. 

I wrote this five months ago, but I didn't want this to go to waste, so here you go