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Words
follow your heart
 they say,
 but they’ve never seen
 the way
 rose petals fell
 on your cold empty grave
 that dark November.
  
 trust in your heart
 they whisper,
 but they don’t know
 what it’s like
 when your mind has always been
 the leader.
  
 things happen for a reason
 they explain,
 but they never felt
 all your pain
 as you laid there,
 still,
 cold and alone.
  
 the things that they whisper
 those words all strung together,
 carelessly,
 mean nothing
 when you died
 wordlessly.

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