There’s a cemetery in my mind,
Where I lay to rest those who’ve died to me,
Not in the flesh, but in the heart.
I dig graves a million feet deep,
And place their shapeless, faceless forms inside.
I fill each hollow with every fragment of memory,
Layer it with love, in case it soothes their restless spirits.
I plant lilies in the soil above,
So they can become part of something pure and beautiful.
I choose the darkest stone in this mental graveyard,
Etch their names in bold, untaintable letters,
And carve a distant message to them.
So that when I stumble upon these tombstones,
I won’t be tempted to unearth the dead,
Only to let them haunt me as specters of something noxious.
-G.
Unsung balladry. 