The Gravestone

Every moment,  that the past burns

I turn to my  inner gravestone

To remember all that once, lived

And all that lies underneath as bones

 

Every wound has grown a scar

And every tear has left a track

I never seek what I have lost

Cause I know it  never comes  back

 

The stone is grey, cold and stoic

Engraved on it, with the ink of my blood

Are the words “here lies a broken heart”

Which had once known nothing but love”

 

And every step I take ahead

Is followed by a turn behind

To glance at the ashes of the past

And hope that the world is kind

 

I lay flowers of sorrow and wreaths of hurt

Every once in a while , I crave

To stare at the remains of what is dead

Beneath that solitary grave

 

Someday  I will walk away

If i turned back one last time, to see

somebody who understands, laying flowers on my grave

And then will I finally be free

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Published by: Abby

Abha is a law student in her early 20s, an aspiring women and child welfare lawyer, a speaker on child sexual abuse and an advocate for gender equality. She enjoys reading romantic thrillers, running after her wayward Alsatian and practicing Buddhism. She loves home-cooked food, electronic rock from the 80s and videos of soldiers reuniting with their kids/dogs.

Categories Life as it were, PoetryTags, , , , , , Leave a comment

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