the cemetery she entered this time was across town
       too close to the water, just as she had lived
                      Ysolde didn’t worry about the spirit this time –

                     this time, she did not fret over the rumbling of the earth
               as a hand pulled itself free, splintered wood crumbling with age
                              she wouldn’t help, not this time
                      there had been too much given already

just watch from over there, if you must

I won’t leave your side

         the skull still clung to follicles of once-lustrous hair
            and a dark part of her reveled in the disheveled state
                        she had been reduced too;

hello mother.

                she had always remembered the personalities in the house
          that warred with each other, sometimes too little
                       the emptiness of her dad’s sighs

         when she slid the stake in between her ribs
               the screeching of her empty life filled the graveyard
                     bony fingers spewing more ignorance
                   just as they had in life, nothing changed in death
                 until all that remained was a waste of time –

let’s go. there’s nothing left here.

Prompt: Prickly