an empty tomb of love,
desire to feel
your warm fingers glide
across the knots that
strangle me in silence.
a wish,
the inability
to see what's
right in front of me,
blinded by the ripples
of waves that come with
my sorrow,
the tears that cascade from my eyes
polishing the rough wood
that sits heavily in my chest,
daggers engraving
dreams and hopes
into the soft wood,
the moss grows ever so slightly around the cracks,
and i wish to find the key buried among the
cemetery of lost memories,
forbidden paths,
treacherous friendships,
i find myself strolling slowly through the
graves,
lined like picket fences on a sunny afternoon.
my grief finds me in the evergreen of summer,
in the golden hues of fall,
in the icy dews of winter,
these graves never change,
yet i wait like
i'm just a little kid,
for some form of magic to seep its way into my
mind and perform a magic trick;
perhaps i am not imaginative enough to see,
perhaps it is all in my head.
the grass grows greener anywhere else but here
and the moon shines brighter during the midnight hours
than the sun does on a spring morning,
and i want to asks the lost souls
if they know
where the key is,
but only gentle whispers
of the wind tell me
that my fate is sealed,
and my grave is in the shape of the one thing i provided the most.