My houseplant committed suicide.
It came out of the blue - or at least - I didn’t catch the signs.

I’d put it on my window ledge so it could catch some sun
- it appeared to be having a good time.

I brushed it with my elbow - the wispy kiss of a butterfly
and it leapt to its shattering end - I never will know why.

The girl it barely missed, looked up - in accusatory alarm.
“What if that had been a BABY!” I yelled, to keep her calm.

We had a terra-cotta funeral - my roommates seemed really sad -
and a reception where no plant-life was consumed.

Lisa, acted quickly - she’s a fashionable 911
and at the funeral she buried the corpse, in a new ***, in her room.

To transition is to attend your own funeral time and time again in hopes of allowing yourself the delicacy of being truly known
Identity becomes a public affair and day to day life reads like a eulogy
Imagine you are the corpse, the coffin, and the church your body rests in
You haven't lost yourself just, killed that version and put her inside a box for only her dearly beloved to see
You now become the house in which they’re prepping her body for eternal sleep
You are the final destination
The one stop shop for little girls who become boys overnight
I became him over night and the next morning i wrote her eulogy
Its been almost five years since girl became boy and i am still giving her eulogy
I am speaking of a little girl to people that only know the grown man she died to be and i am so incredibly tired of doing so
I see family and the remnants of the little girl i was believed to be and i am forced to take part in their mourning
Every day feels like the day after you lose someone you loved
There are bits and pieces of her around my house, and my mind, and even my body but she is gone
She has been gone for almost five years and i am still attending her funeral
There is no longer a corpse, coffin, and church just a man her memories rest in
I am the man her memories rest in yet i put her to rest long ago
I need the world to do the same, for my dearly beloved to do the same
For we are gathered here today not to mourn the loss of a daughter, a sister, or niece
We are here to celebrate the gaining of a son, a brother, and a nephew
I am celebrating the birth of me and giving her eulogy in the same breath and i am tired of doing so
See i am left carrying the grief of a person who still exists
I exist
Changed but still present, still breathing
There never was a corpse, a coffin, or a church
There was only ever me, my body, and the world around me

Please don't burry me a hero'
I was born a simple man-
When I came into this world:
Please don't cry for my absence'
I was more active in the present.

Please don't speak about could have'
When you all should have,
Please don't cry on your knees;
But cry and dance on your feet.

For once I'm gone'
You'll forget me once time is long;
Even if you sing all the songs'
You'll forget me once time is long.

Please don't drag Amazing grace'
You may be sad for my death;
But for all I did in my life'
I'd love a little bit of praise:
And even in my death'
I won't be a fan of-
Long and complicated prayers.

Until my creator calls'
Spend the most of time we got:
Life is a breath away from death'
As we all, don't have a lot.

Remember me well in life'
Not showing off my memories,
For your never did before death:
For in this short life-
The season of remembrance-
Is still now and yet.

Cry more for me now;
For you'll cry less in my death'
Not crying for me,
But crying for all your regrets.

Would you remember,the times when
we were cracking jokes?
would you cry over, by reminiscing those days
which I cared you even more?
would you sit there all alone,
and wish,this should be a dream?
would you keep looking me in all selfies we took?
would you take my guitar and,hum my favourite song,
without shedding tears?
would you remove the dust from all the trophies,
which I had once achieved?
would you sleep every night, hugging my pillow and my frame?
would you smell my favourite blue hoodie,draped with my
favourite perfume?
would you miss my preachings,which I had always tried to say,
by walking behind you ,wherever you go?
would you take a look at my diary in which, each page has only
to say about you....?

when he was stolen from us,
the angels fell from heaven
their pure wings were ripped from their shoulders
the halos torn from atop their heads
thrown to the ash

shooting stars plunged
doomed for earth
one by one
then all together

she wept through the day
long into the night
suffocated by the thought
of remaining without him

with anger and sorrow
she blamed the angels
who were supposed to
defend him

life without him
would be a cold fire in the bitter winter
present
but with no warmth

we bid our farewell to the closed casket,
the barrier between us
as it lowered
into the dust