Inspired by Bon Jovi's Bed of Roses. Elaboration of page 64 in the book when he buries his wife.

Bed of Roses

I felt a hot tear stream down my face, watching as my wife, my love, Virginia was charred on top of countless others' remains.

I pictured in my head the kind of burial I wanted for her, the one that she deserved.

There would be every person she had ever loved, every person that loved her, standing around her polished casket. Closed. I didn't want to think about her face, dead and pale. Only how it was, beautiful and full of life.

A pianist in the chapel, not playing a sad, slow song. Playing something she would want, something upbeat, making us smile when we thought of her.

Me, wasted, vodka still lodged in my head, my body lying on nails, waiting for my turn to be close to you again.

And roses, infinitely roses. Rose all around your lifeless body. Roses in your hair, the scent wafting from your clothes, your air, your very skin.

No.

I change my mind.

No casket, only you, in a meadow, clean and soft, as you always were in life.

No chapel, only free, open air surrounding us, sheltering nothing and everything.

No people, only us, until death do us part, as we promised once, long ago.

No pianist, only the sounds of life around us, only the music playing in my head.

No vodka, only your scent will cloud my head, make me drunk off our love.

And there will be roses.

Short, I know, but I think it's to the point. Lemme know what you think!