“What feeling are you unwilling to feel? Loneliness? … I think everyone feels it, no? But..how do they do it? Batting away the weakness? I just can’t seem to do it”
And I’m still grieving for the ghost of you, when you truly never died. But, On God, I wish you were gone. The headstone I bestowed upon was lovely, covered in poetry. Those moments and seconds I ever and never got to witness, lined up with the rest of everything.
I swear, I visited your grave once or twice, just to know in this moment, it is just an empty casket. So who did I bury then? Or did I plunge myself instead? What should I do to let this rest in peace? My knees are already blue and my hands are always glued in a clasp, with my mouth chanting the same prayers.
Thousands of eulogies had already been written, should this one be an addition too? Again, just for you?
