dark angel

I see her in the background
of my reflection

her body blue and bloated
seaweed tangled in her limbs
when she tries to speak
black smoke billows out

she can't be more then 16
a cherub face
that only knew blushing cheeks
before her untimely demise

it was the 60s
she was riding her bike 
back from the corner store
in some small town
where things like this
aren't supposed to happen
in her bike basket she had candy
and a handful daisies
to press into heavy books
when she got home

he lured her with a
white kitten named snow
he was a member of the 
church she went to
he ate her mother's potato salad
at the Sunday potluck

every time she rode her bike
past his house
he watched her from the window
watched her long lean legs
pumping the peddles

he kept her short white shorts
and a lock of her brown hair
 long after she was gone
her last breath still warmed
his hands

when she is near
I hear the faucets dripping
I see her last memory
and I struggle to breathe

his hands smelled like
walnuts 

he tied heavy rocks to her ankles
she watched herself disappear
her screams are black clouds
I  sort through them
so she can be heard

I die with her again and again
until she doesn't go back there
anymore
now she stays here

my dear dark angel
now that your story has been told
​you are free