Tell Them
My Sweetheart
That I never wanted a funeral
But it was only
For tradition

Tell Them
Not to cry
Not to mourn
But rather
Sit in a circle, knee to knee
And share stories of me with them
Bad ones
Good ones
All of them so that I am seen
Even after death
As an imperfect human being

Tell them
To wear black skirts and no makeup
And high spiked boots
With skull rings
And silver chains
So that they remember my dark side

Tell Them
Not to miss me
Not the slightest
And instead
Await the day
They can see me again
If they pray I make it to heaven

Tell Them
To tell me their stories once in a while
I like a good laugh
I like a short smile
But even if not
They can tell me their doubts
And I'll listen
Because I love voices that talk to me
And reveal a journey

And when They bury me
Will you all pray
That I end up safe
Many many miles away
Away from you all
But still in your hearts
I'll be sewn
As tightly as my
Pursed, frowned lips

Tell Them
Sweetheart
That I never
Left
(because I was always right)