In the end, I think my funeral will resemble that Truffaut film
That one where the playboy dies
And all of his past loves appear to see him off
Then the film retraces his life through their stories
In the end, all the women of my life will be there
Some will be crying in misery
Others won’t be able to hold back the urge to spit on my grave
They will be unsure of exactly why they even came
But something pulled them all together in this precious ballet
My mother will be there too
And she’ll be proud of how many friends I made
While I lived
Sharing a handkerchief with the one’s who I loved the most
As far as friends, I guess she is right
We were all friends at some point before I died.
Iin the end, they will all be surprised to see me go
They will all be surprised about who else is there
Their stories will reflect upon both my positive and negative attributes
But mostly how I left them wanting
Some will have wished to marry me
While others will have wished to watch me die
A thousand times.
And in the end, I don’t think any of them will feel satisfied.
In the end, I don’t think I will have really died
Instead, I think this will have been just a new beginning
All ties freshly cut and new horizons possible
With everything I have learned up until this point
Stuffed into my pockets
I think, in the end, I will be able to finally rebuild my life
The way I should have lived it all along.