I’m dead now and you give me your tears,
Resting your head upon my still chest,
Soaking my already cold clothes with regret,
Chilling my rigid body as you sprawl over my breast,
Move forward several weeks to my cremation day,
And flowers adorn the coffin in which I sleep,
And pretty ribbons and rows of cards from all that I knew,
To try to cheer my darlings’ heart as she hides the times she weeps.