Habizhpeh

I'm standing alone at your funeral, nude,
Autumn leaves smell like your laughter,
Your ghost is floating around in the woods,
You're buried and fail to notice me after.
I follow your shadow, pushed by the wind,
Carried away on a tip of a leaf.
As you're dissipating, I finally get
That you are alive and I'm dead.

If you ever read this, I hope that you'll view
The funeral as your rejection of us
The grief of the loss has already passed -
Like the ghostly perfection of you.