Best Friend

I remember
how we had show and tell
and you told
that in your new house
your walls were painted yellow.
You were happy.
Yellow looked so good on you.

I remember
in fifth grade
how your walls started to speckle.
The paint was chipping,
it was a long time
since kindergarten.

I remember
when I came to your house
and you had changed your walls to green.
You were happy with the color.
It was my favorite back-drop
for slumber parties.

I remember
how one night
you told me
that you wanted your casket
to be black.
In the flight light's glow
I reasoned for cremation.

I remember
when I got pulled from English class,
and was told the news.
The fumes from your
wounded red walls
had leaked into your brain.
I never got to help you
with the rest of the decorating.

Your walls were crimson.
Your face was white.
Now you sleep in a
seven by two and a half
solid mahogany
tomb stained night.