There is a morgue in my bedroom.
Past all the happy memories,
Hidden in my closet,
The dead lie, waiting.
It contains deceased memories, relationships
Expired love.
In the form of stuffed animals, cards, notes, pictures
I hide my grief.
Some may call it a cemetery, but it is not.
It is not a resting place for the dead,
but a place for restless memories to skulk.
A haunting ground.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
There is a morgue in my bedroom.
Past all the happy memories,
Hidden in my closet,
The dead lie, waiting.
It contains deceased memories, relationships
Expired love.
In the form of stuffed animals, cards, notes, pictures
I hide my grief.
Some may call it a cemetery, but it is not.
It is not a resting place for the dead,
but a place for restless memories to skulk.
A haunting ground.
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