The coffin has been placed before the altar, below the wooden cross. Eulogies drone on and I smirk at the glorified descriptions of myself… Isn’t it strange how they only mention the good half of people?

Beside me he tears. My heart, long still and cold, doesn’t fail to flail weakly like a drowning bird. Then he rises and walks to the podium. “My partner is gone, and I’m still coming to terms with it. I have so many things I want to tell her…” that he was sorry all the times he hurt me. That he loved me. That he had so many things to show me. His voice breaks of, choked with tears which leak down his face.

Then all I hear is my breath in the silence. There are so many things I want to tell him as well, to apologise for. All the lustful secrets buried deep within my rotting heart, all the kisses shared in perfect privacy. All the hidden knives and invisible gashes I opened between us.

And my gut sinks and twists, my tears mourning, only now, the death of something long ago dead.