heartbeat iii / funeral

i can't remember your birthday

i can't remember your birthday
and suddenly
that's the most important thing in the world

holding on to everything about you that i can remember
writing it down and trying not to forget

dramatic and sexual but not flamboyant.
not unless you were teasing someone.
you were always smart.
smart with people. smart about getting what you wanted.

and i'm painting this cardboard box
decorated with the lady with the umbrella
the one you'd always loved

(and) she's smiling
she's smiling because she's (still) yours.

(it's not a grave that we stand at
it's an empty house)

you're gone
and the roses are dying

the roses are dying
and the color is fading
and we're all gone
and i am asleep
and everything is nothing
and nothing is everything


"he loved you."

he loved you.