You’ll hear Lilith in the empty spaces between sentences,
And we lost our way home.
Through the night-whispers carry like sticks in a crow's maw.
I want you to hear them.
Wonder why I'm pacing when she's late?
SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD
It's not productive to mourn a living person all day. I'm a burden, carrying myself. Dragging myself with square wheels.
It's the song you sing, I've heard. It's the music that plays when you enter the room. That's what people will remember when they stare at the ground, waiting for enough time to pass.
It's your party. Try to enjoy it.