The truth is I want the flowers that sprout
From the empty eye sockets of your skull,
As remembrance that even beauty
Can be found in the darkest of places.
And that sometimes
A cadaver isn’t so sad when you think of the lives
Those bodies once held, the lives
Those bodies once loved,
And the petals that once blossomed.
So come to me and plant seeds in my head
And watch as your thoughts grow new beauties in me.
I constantly think back to that day,
When you pulled to the side of the road,
And you bought me that bouquet of flowers
Then a few days later I was skeptical when
You began to plant gardens in my cemetery.