I put on your favorite dress today,

Because you always liked to look good on the weekends.

You told me my eyes were a deeper blue in this color, 

So I've vowed to always accent them appropriately.

My bed hasn't been made in three weeks,

Because you always tossed at night.

I won't sleep in the mess of worn fabric and frayed pillows,

so the signature that you've left in the sheets cannot be erased.

I've stopped biting my nails,

Not because I've beaten my anxiety,

Or because my mother's complaints have taken effect,

But because you always wanted your back scratched.

I went to your funeral today,

Because tangled sheets 

And soothed backs 

Were not enough to keep you here.

I'm wearing black,

Not because you said it made my palid skin glow

Brighter than the moon at her best hour,

But because you were charmed by manners.

And at a funeral, 

Isn't that the polite thing to do?