I took the casket by the hand,
whispered to her that everything was going to be alright,
and then poured my heart out to her.
Literally.
The little red pieces get buried tonight.
The viewing's at eight, between final exams.
You can take a piece with you.
Don't tell the funeral director.
He's afraid people will cut themselves with the shards.
But I don't mind.
A few scars do people some good.
Ironic.
I wouldn't have said that if my heart were here.
He always knew what to say.

Oh, what's that?
You want to fix him?
He said in his will
that the idea of repair was stupid.
Funny
that my heart would believe in YOLO.
Oh well.

So, coming to visit soon, old love?
He left you something in his will.

Himself.