I still remember the sound of you and the feeling of your fake nailed fingers combing through my knotted hair as an angry storm shook feeble white shutters the day of your funeral the beach was at low tide and I took the shattered clam shells and heaved them calmly into the water as the sun shine down inappropriatly joyful I came up to your casket and tears streamed down my young face I wanted to hold your folded hands and shake you awake you smelled like nothing no longer the smell of your vanilla lotion we visit your gravesite and stand quietly doing the happy reminiscing that seems so fake to remember so real of a person I love you I'm thinking of dying my hair to match yours I can still remember you teaching me piano and your laughter ringing through the house please come back