The dead have no ears - a poem

So first, you could say i have lived,

Two you were my friend

Three you knew me

Four you never saw me fall

For whenever i cried,

You always turned your back.

Fast forward to when the pallbearers bear my dead body in a wooden cage on their shoulders,

My soul already fluttered out,

Would you let a tear escape,

And adorn a wreath of wishes on the headstone of my six-foot condo.

Would regrets touch the tip of your lips,

How you could have been more of a friend,

Dear and there whenever i needed you,

Would you wish you had given me that wristwatch, 

that shirt, that smile when i needed it the most and you had it in abundance.

Would you shed crocodile tears on my deathbed, 

or would they be real tears, 

would they be tears of joy, or leaks of regret?

How you never complimented my efforts or looks,

How you never said kind words.

Unfortunately, you cannot read that beautiful eulogy yet, cause I'm still alive,

But please do not bring a bouquet of poetic dirge to my demise,

For the dead has no ears

And can make no efforts,

This is another goodbye,

And you if you wish,

Can read the beautiful piece you wrote for my funeral,

For me now,

Never mind me hearing,

I'd assume a deaf ear,

But yet bear them through my

Life till the day,

We would stand across divides

And bid our last goodbyes