What goes around

You see that’s the thing no one tells you about being dead, I always thought when ghosts were depicted as see-thru beings that they could at least see themselves. I can’t. As I look down at what should be my hands, I see nothing but the floor. Although I don’t feel any physical pain, I can literally feel my heart shattering over and over again. I should leave this room, I should try and find ‘the light’ I guess, but the masochist inside of me can’t tear my eyes from the scene unfolding in front of me. I can feel myself drifting as I contemplate why I may not feel physical pain, but my chest feels like it is being ripped open, again and again. I guess heartbreak has more to do with the soul than the body.

The rustling of sheets draws my attention back to the bed. The bed that my enemy and once-fiancé consummated their marriage in.

The same bed that my enemy just murdered my once-fiancé/her new husband in on their wedding night.

The bed that my enemy is now wrapping my once-fiancé’s body up in sheets.

The bed that my once-fiancé metaphorically made for himself when he murdered me.

You see that’s the thing about Karma. It’s a bitch, and apparently it’s the bitch he married.