I never thought my first funeral would be that of a friend
I never thought the casket adorned in sunflowers would be that of her's
I never thought the first death I would mourn would be her's
I never thought, but then again, I never saw
The scars like tally marks counting her thousand sorrows
The secret tears she'd shed beneath her facade
The hundred hints of her dying that everyone just brushed off
We all thought it was a phase,
She'd get over it, we'd say.
I, however, would sometimes see beneath the veil of smiles and jokes
See her weeping behind corners
See her covering her wrists
See her tears
But, I did nothing.
Nothing.
So, how come I never thought that the first death would be her's?
The sunflowers on the casket, her's?
The first death, her's?
For the smallest caskets are the heaviest.