The Bittersweet Love Of The Dead 

Everyone will love you
When you're sleeping
Six feet in the earth,
Or at least that's what they say.
But I've come to realize,
There's no love
Like the dead man's love.
It's when you're gone,
Surrounded by smoke
And soil,
That they muster up their praise,
Clutching their hearts
With bittersweet remorse.
Suddenly, you become the hero,
The one they see
Through tear-soaked glasses,
As if death grants them
The gift of clear sight.
Everyone will love you
When you're sleeping
Six feet in the earth.
But what good is love
When it's too late?
What solace can be found
In the words spoken
When the ears
They were meant for
Are deaf to their sound?
We are but ghosts,
Fading into the annals of memory.
The living find comfort
In their illusions,
Constructing narratives
To fit their needs,
But we, the departed,
We wallow in our forgotten dreams,
Forever yearning for a love
That could have been,
That should have been.