you’re not invited to the afterparty

I wrote a 2nd version that has a couple more lines before the last but I thought this one felt better

When I die the world will not come to a standstill
The garden in the back of the house will continue to grow and flourish
Watered by my family’s tears and displaced love
When I die there will be no flags lowered
The people of this country don’t mourn for the pathetic pornstar who thought too much
Who dreamt of being the next Bukowski
And only succeeded in finding his level of depravity and obsessive love for beautiful women
When I die there will be no moment of silence
One would be drowned out by the hoarse cries of my sister
As she screams her beautiful voice into extinction
And curses me for giving up on the world, and vice versa
When I die there will not be a funeral
But a celebration of life
Messy feuds pushed aside as my extended family comes together
To remember the version of me that doesn’t make their stomach sink
The sweet little girl who sprinkled the aisle with flower petals and then
Fell asleep under a dining table
They’ll paint a gorgeous portrait of me using a paintbrush coated in half truths and omissions
When I die there will be no more agony
I imagine it’s plenty easy to breathe when you have no need to

I’ll leave this world the same way I entered
Like a drop in an already brimming bucket
Overflow is inevitable