My mind is a graveyard.
There is buried
a thousand and one dreams,
one hundred friendships,
countless fantasies,
hidden beneath layers
worn smooth by the years,
marked by fading tombstones reading,
simply,
"memory."

But in the night
comes a character,
cloaked in dark fabric
and protected by solitude,
to wake the dead from their slumber,
to reanimate even
the long deceased,
blood leaking
from reopened wounds.
With blade in hand
the figure marks each memory,
carves into flesh
(living and dead alike)
lines that read out the truth:
*"eternity"