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Its not her dying

Its not that they tried
Its the trying that you hate

Its not that they lied
Its the lying that you hate

Its not that she died
It's the dying that you hate
The dying that you hate
Her dying that you hate

Her illnesses subversive
Its the stealth that you hate

It's the quickness that you hate
Yet the quickness is a blessing

Its not the time that you hate
It's the timing that you hate

Its not the cost of living
It's the cost to stay alive

Its not the cost of dying
Paid by those left behind

Its not the co-pay or the waiting
Its the knowing and praying

Its not the shopping for black lacquered
Wooden boxes
Its not the shopping for final little dresses

Its not that she was born
Its not that she was born
Its that you cant see her anymore
That she cant be seen anymore

Its not that you cant cry anymore
Its not that you don't love her anymore
Its that you cant cry anymore
Its that you will always love her

Its not the absence that you hate
It's the method of her leaving

Its not the calendar that you hate
It's the days left un-filling

Its not the toys in storage that you hate
Its the packing and the wrapping

Its not the family that you hate
It's the questions and the reminders

Its not the pictures that you hate
It's the rarity of them that you hate

Its not the lock of hair that you hate
Its the only thing left that you hate

Its not that she died
It's the dying that you hate
The dying that you hate
Her dying that you hate

Learn more about this author, M.L. Brooke.
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