The Big Book of Poems

DeAd

There'd be social media uproar

And people claiming we were close

Secret best fiends

And arguments over who loved who the most

It wasn't me it was her

And I didn't know you when the date was set

I didn't go to her funeral

Or claim more time was owed in your debt

Oh god can you imagine the tomb stone ?

They'd put pink flowers everywhere

You'd look down in distance

I'd move them all elsewhere

You'd hate how everyone finally cared

And tried to prove they were good people

I'd cry often than most

And try to leave through my sleeping

I don't think you should've left

But it's too late to tell you now

And leave us all Bereft

I'm sorry for making a big deal

And wearing black to your funeral

You would've preferred the bright colours

But then you weren't here to tell me otherwise

I can't tell if you were someone else or ever here at all

I can't tell if we were close or just passed in the corridors

I can't tell if I'm going crazy or already have

I can't tell if you're dead - or I am.