We'd need a new home to house you,
So I dream one up.
We'd need a bigger car to drive you,
So I buy one with mind money.
You'd need plenty of clothes to wear,
So I scour thrift store shelves.
(The clothes are preworn,
and that doesn't hurt the fantasy.)
We've come into an extra brown horsey.
You can have that one.
We'll just find you somewhere,
With your big blue eyes,
And hair I can't imagine.
And it will be easy all over again.
Until I need to put away the chest,
Bearing the initials of the you that came first.
And I close up your memory box,
So I don't scare you with your pictures.
And I never visit your grave again.
And tell my own newfound self you're not there anyway.