This isn't a poem really.
More like a statement,
multiple questions of curiosity.

Is there really a heaven up above?
Above the clouds and the sky?
Is there really a place we go to when we die?
Or are we just simply put in a casket and left to rot?

Who remembers us when we are gone?
Our families?
Those who originally said they don't care?

Who visits us when we are dead?
Who comes by our graves and lays down a bouquet of roses or flowers?
Who says,
" I regret never telling them I love them?"
Because when I die, I don't just simply want a funeral and a burial.
I want someone to ball their eyes out, and for someone to whisper,
"I never got to tell her...I never told her how much I loved and wanted her. And now I never will have that chance."
Call me selfish. I dont care.
But is it too much to ask for someone to mend my broken heart, so that I may yet learn to love again?