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A Grave For You

Let's build a grave, I said.

She nodded and started straight ahead.

We build together a camaraderie,

stacked it up with giggles and tears,

packed it up with memories and clouds.

There we go, the coffin is ready.


The grave cannot be called so until we leave, she

said.

I agreed because that's how friendships work.

Neither of us agreed on the haunting, though,

the heavy burden of things left unsaid

and the innocence of undeclared love hanging

right above our heads.

The grave is complete.


Time conspires with memory and confuses me.

Nostalgia hit me in raindrops, and suddenly I'm

stuck at a forever afternoon class with her.

Giggling as we secretly eat snacks underneath

our benches.

This is the grave of our love, it's not romance-

and that doesn't make it any less warm.


Some friends don't stay long in your life but

are neatly stored away in your brain, feeding your dreams.

Letting your heart go through a dull pain

that isn't painful at all.

Yet, carries a heaviness that can never be

forgotten.

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