A dozen red roses for my grave. From my husband who never loved me. A dozen red roses from my murder. A man who did nothing but lie for years. A dozen red roses from the man I thought I could trust. A dozen forget-me-nots, from my mother who cried salty tears equal to that of a sea. A dozen tears from my sister who I love very much.
A dozen tears wipes from my father, who tried to remain stoic. Dozens, and dozens of breakdowns from my brothers, who miss me very with a dull ache in their hearts. A dozen quiet longings for this to not be true. A dozen misunderstandings from children who wonder why mommy is being buried. 
A dozen lies from my murderer to my family. A dozen silent and verbal cries from me to my family. A longing for the truth from my family.
A dozen…..