somewhere there's a graveyard
with unmarked tombstones
and a distinct absence of bones
and the space under each headstone
is filled with all of the words that were never said
all of the tongues that were bitten and held
and all of the mouths that stayed shut
all of the thoughts that danced around the periphery of consciousness like shadows flickering in the firelight
a mausoleum of missed trains and missed chances
an ardent arrangement of alternate realities
a collection of the opportunities and objects that slipped through the cracks.
an obituary of What Could Have Been.