journal fifty-two.

when I die, bury me in tears

the ones that fell from me laughing so hard

I could barely keep my eyes open

go to the place

I loved the most, by that city view probably

and write a journal of your day

remember me that way

for the memories I had to jot down

and scenes I had to sketch

because I hated forgetting

and loved reminiscing

eat fries

and play cards

travel to every place you have not yet seen

and love

experience, for me

please, no mourning here

when I die, celebrate

for when I lived,

I lived