At the Cemetery

We part ways for one reason or another. Arguments, the potential destruction of a relationship… do we choose to survive or sink with the burden, the heft of its anchor drowning us further down? Which is the better choice and would it make me a coward having chosen the way that I’ve done, surviving us and writing about it?

we meet at the cemetery,
no lights but our own shadows
guide us to our graves.
i am faced with mortality
each time i dig my nails
upon this earth,
how weeds are temporary
as the next rose, as you
and I underneath the sky
without nearly a smear
of sunscreen;
and so we die restlessly
from one another only
to be reborn again and again
into yesterday’s mistakes
and blameless heartbreaks–
i shall keep running even
when you choose your own death,
i’ll climb over the gates, straight
ahead, I won’t be looking back

© mr gahon 11/12/14


About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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