As I looked at you,
it bothered me how you were drained of the blood
that once pulsed through your body –
the skin that you opened like a river
by means of your own hands
even when I begged you not to,
stiff.

As I looked at you,
I realized not only did you look strange
because of the make-up they put on you
or the patterned shirt you would have never worn by choice,
you looked strange because you weren't wearing a smile.

As I looked at you,
I remembered the night I found out
and how the pain hasn't gotten any less painful,
it’s just gotten easier to hide.

When I finally looked away from you, though,
I looked around me at the sea of people who came to say goodbye to you-
people who were touched by your existence,
wanted to be graced by your presence one last time.

It was in this moment that I realized
I should not be eternally sad for my loss of you,
but should instead be eternally grateful to have known you.

It isn't every day that you meet someone who can make you laugh
when you were crying minutes before,
someone who urges you to call them
at four in the morning if that’s what you need ,
someone who is there for you no matter what.

So when I leaned over to kiss your forehead
and whisper to you that I loved you,
I don’t want you to think that was me saying goodbye.

It was me saying thank you.