I guess I should feel special.
Sure, you weighted me down, but with gorgeous smooth pebbles, not jagged ugly rocks.
So maybe I was in a black rubbish bin bag, but you went and bought a sparkly silver marker to write "fragile" and "flammable" on the sides. I suppose then you borrowed your sister's dressmaker's scissors and a length of pearly pink ribbon, which you used to bound my plastic-encased body with.
That bottle of glow-in-the-dark paint, that your artist of a brother was saving for a special spark of inspiration, well, you probably found this to be it. It's nice to know that deep down, beyond the murky waters, my lifeless body could still brighten up someone's day.
And then you took me out on your finest yacht for a sail, (which was miles ahead of your favourite dinghy old sailboat), so I could get some fresh air into my pallid system. You took me past the marsh and the fog to the mountains and the salt.
When you tipped me, you did it with the uttermost care, making sure my feet entered first. You had thoughtfully tied a length of silk around my middle, so I wouldn't float off-track, and away from you.
Then adorning your sleek body in your best black suit, you led me to where oysters hatched rubies and fish breathed lullabies. You placed me so delicately in the trench you had dug earlier, and lined with feathers. How those feathers stayed down there, I'll never know, but your touch was one of a saint, and had I been a feather, I would have plucked myself for you.
With each handful of fine sparkling sand sprinkling down from the heavens, you whispered my name, but all that came out were bubbles. I don't think that there could have been more handsome bubbles that have graced the cave, and I was so proud that your perfect lips had formed these bubbles.
When I had a fair weight of sand pressing upon me, you took out a crude wooden cross, made from majestic pieces of driftwood and plunged it upright in the sand next to my head. Such a swift gesture underwater made me want to dance, but I cannot because I am wrapped up and buried, yearning desperately for your touch.
And as you swim slowly away, all that is left of me is an empty, rotting body.