if you haven't noticed
the scars on my hips
or the fake smile on my lips
or the forced laugh that i've aopted
or the way i don't care
about the things i used to love
then don't you dare stand
at my grave and cry

how can you cry for someone
that you don't even know?

A pen and paper
have always been my weapons of choice,
they helped me cope and come to grips,
they gave my sorrow a voice.

In your cold absence,
I have forgotten what
the word warmth meant

Perhaps you were  
the word warmth

But now, you are
the word silence

I talk to you,
but you do not talk back