I never said goodbye
I hope that's alright
I mean,
I know it's not,
I guess I'm asking for forgiveness
Because I never said goodbye
I was too preoccupied
To get up
For one last embrace
One last kiss
I couldn't really be bothered
Until it was too late
Until you were ten feet under
Ten years later

I never said goodbye
Only to the grass
And the metal plate on top of you
In the Garden of Serenity
Next to the fountain
And the trees
That humid June day
My dress a shade of orange
I know you would have liked
A shade of orange
I wore the day you were buried
A shade of orange
Similar to the flowers I put on top of you
A shade of orange
That never left my blurry eyes as the tears fell down over you

I’ve never received a rose,
Cuz I think I am a rose.
In reality, I'm a frangipani.
Grow up in a grave.
planted by a liar.

He was the tough guy,
The bad boy, the person
You never, ever crossed.
He was the owner of the old hotrod, the
House you always avoided
Because it was too loud and smelly.
He was the guy who never
Shaved his beard, kept at least
Three motorcycles in his garage, and
Had a different girlfriend every month.
He was the tough guy.
But then his dad took ill,
And suddenly he didn’t care
About his hotrod anymore.
His buddies were forgotten,
His workshop untouched,
As his calloused hands held
His father’s weak and shaky ones.
The graveside service was
A week later, and I remember
Him kneeling over his father’s coffin,
Head bowed in prayer,
Trying to stay calm, but
Tears flew down his cheeks with
An intensity that no one had
Seen before, nor since.
And that’s when I learned that
Tough guys aren’t always tough.

when i was little ,
dad handed me a shovel and
he handed me
a dress.

he taught me how to dress myself
and then how to garden ,

to dig each hole
in soft
           flesh and soil.  

ive grown up since,
gotten taller,
and can hold
the shovel by myself ,

so
i dig graves now instead .

ive saved one for dad ,
                               and ive saved one for me.

six feet deep ,
                        it’s a bed with no blankets
and it’s
perfect ,
and
it’s mine —

and
i want to be buried in a dress
i can button
                     all
                         by myself ,

because
dad also handed me a shotgun.

I knew in that moment
that I must run out into the darkness
and find a way
that even the streetlights avoid.
Find a place with no roads
where flowers of new season
will hide my unsure steps.
I knew I had to run away
Or I will never be the same.
So that I don’t loose everything
I (almost) have.
I must run back to that house in wilderness
that I left behind,
to the life I left behind.
So that there are no more graves
of my loved ones
with my name as the murderer engraved.

Entangled in an ivy mass,
Surrounded by the lush long grass,
Some purple flowers show their heads,
Inbetween eternal beds.

On the graves, people weep,
On the people deep in sleep,
People live and people die,
After death it's here they lie.

Trust the dead and do not fear,
Their hearts and souls are always near
They do not live deep underground,
It's inside you that love is found.