My body is the
temple where both love and hate
reside in turmoil.

I’ve been missing you to death, but I just hope you’re still breathing.

I'm sure I'll miss
the long twilight walks
and the ol' diner dashes
and the way your hair fell into your eyes
but there will be others
and there will be moments
just like these
with another someone.

So I don't know if I'll ever get over you,
but I sure as hell am going to try.

Somehow I must learn
to forgive myself for all
the choices I can't make.

Bury me.
Six feet under.
Don’t cry when you come to visit.

Talk to me
(I’ll get lonely, with all these rotting souls surrounding me)

Plants will grow,
from my decaying body,
weaving through my bones.

Let them stay,
they have made friends
with my skeleton
And creaking soul.