I can never put flowers 
On your grave.
Or touch the smooth coldness
Of your tombstone.

Even if you did have a grave,
The stone would be bare.
There would be no nmaes or dates you lived,
Because you were never born.

You never loved,
But you were loved by me.
You never saw the world, or even me.
Any part you saw of me was deep and dark inside.

Death took you away,
To a place I will someday reach.
A place where your infantant beauty
Is brighter than the stars around you,
And you gently rest your head on the Morning Star.

But you are there, and I am here.
Worlds apart
Until the day we are reunited.

There is a place wher the memory of you is.
Here, in my heart, there is a fresh grave.