Graveyard Shopping

You offered dead habits up

into the mouth of a graveyard statue

because the pictures on your walls

breathe false color into a memory-

but I am a waking thing.

The linoleum brightness of your smile

it hurts my eyes

and I'm heavier

than the watercolor washes you beg of me.

You are not a necromancer-

you don't even realize 

that you are trying to be one.

So

please don't try and resurrect

the friend I used to be.