"Curious Natures Of Alien Girls" by Kristin Garth

I am the ghost though they say you are dead.

A brain composed of stardust won’t rot.

Those bones stacked underground I pled

for you to take survived only to be forgot.

My body was buried before yours would breathe

though I clawed through six feet, compacted dirt

toward a whisper of death already grieved.

The provocation for haunting is hurt.

My spirit’s entangled with yours on some star

while my bones mimic youth in a grave.

You once made a map of my private scars.

No one was found, discovered or saved.

The curious natures of alien girls

is ephemeral in these primitive worlds.

A word from the author: I wrote sonnet about feeling destroyed by another’s death you physically survived.