I thought visiting their graves was enough,
Exchanging thoughts and breathing the same air, for a while.
Then leaving for a more hopeful destination.
But my visits have been more frequent recently,
I thought I’d stop coming a long time ago.
And this weekend, I found an invitation as clear as daylight.
I should have never showed up.
But here I am.
Facing them, drawn to them, again.
Feeding on my weak heart.
Telling me to dig them up from the ground.
Promising me what I couldn’t achieve yet, alone.
Promising me again, that I needed them.
And I’m tempted to give in.
But the last time I did that, it didn’t turn out well.
And the recovery was painful.
So I stand there, silently crying,
Searching for the strength within me
To pull me away from that cemetery
To get over the dead.
To make peace with my living self.
I stand there trembling.
Afraid to let go.
Afraid to be alone.