I had to hear the sound of the zip on that dress
I asked her back to mine for cold coffee and cigarettes
She said she doesn't smoke but she'd have one to impress
and she isn't one for coffee
So sorry, I digress

Before she sat down all these lines coalesced
with secrets and lies, I try to confess
she catalysed a crystal convalescence
her garnet eyes sparking wildfires in my chest
my lungs are so tight they could rival her dress
Stung in the heart for kicking the nest
took a shot in the dark
Again, I digress

A small crowded room - as small rooms tend to be
but for everyone there, she was all I could see
the picture of perfection, framed perfectly
in a dress designed to buckle my knees
Crowded c'rod'd quickly becomes we
and I was trying to get her on my settee
Is it a metaphor if I meant it literally?
Excuse me, once more it seems
I digress

I just had to get her out of that dress
mess up her make up
make her hair a mess
kiss her when she wakes up
and watch her get dressed
to undress her again
exalted by the scent
bask in the sound
of the zip on that dress
while I sip on cold coffee
and smoke cigarettes

our souls will probably wind up in the same cemetery.
two plots away.
too far to roll in my grave and see you.
just barely out of touch.
close,
but never quite close enough.

Here I am;
Cursed.
With all these songs to dance along.
With the rain drenching the ground.
Standing alone
Here
In the cemetery;
Confused.
Should I sway along to the melody?
Or
Should I mourn over the loss of the ideals I never had
With the ghosts watching in front of me?
Or maybe
I could just leave them alone with themselves,
Letting them rest in whatever state they are in.
Still, I am here;
Standing,
Thinking,
Cursing,
Wishing
My mind
To rest.

A car door slams,
when my destination is reached.
A gate, enclosing  generations of  
secrets, creaks when moved.  
A bell chimes four times,
ringing in the new hour.  

The Earthy smell of
freshly cut grass and roses
linger around my nose,
taken in by my lungs.

My steps crush fallen leaves
as I gently walk around.  
My eyes take in the many  
shades of grey on green  
along with purples, yellows, and reds
spread about on the grey.

My fingers scrape against a grey slab
worn away and rigid from tears.
To the right, is another slab
smooth and shining in the sun.
Off in the distance
a large tree sits,
with branches whispering in the wind.
The leaves watching the fallen ones,
before falling themselves.  

The wind softly sells faded stories
of the worn names on slabs
no longer distinguishable.
Flags wave with pride
saluting the fallen soldiers.

Paper windmills spin around
with bright colors reflecting  
the stolen childhoods
of children who never  
had the chance to live,
but now rest in dreams.  

The moon rises,
bringing in a muted light
that illuminates small details.
The crisp air tastes of musk and  
the sky is now at dusk.
I can feel a certain presence.
My favorite place, the only place,
that follows acceptance.

The air, saturated with a putrid smell.

Foul, like a dumpster in summertime.

They're monsters, skulking around in the Dead of Night.

Leaving, a sickness in their wake.

You're revolting.

The way you take.

Gnashing your teeth.

Trying, to pluck out little hearts.

Attempting, to creep up thighs.

Don't touch me, with those slimy fingers.

Go before you die, rotting beast.

We are not a cemetery.

Quarantine aisles briskly I tread
Oh, the unending agony of those we call "dead"
And yet persists the practice of our people
To give them roses, hugs for the feeble

Morning comes and sunlight creeps
Among tombstones and relatives' weeps
Lighting every corner with it's ray
Filling their hearts with dismay

It signals life, that morning sun
for it shall never be seen by you whose life is done
Bittersweet some might say
But to me it's all just gray

Gray as your hair when you left
You looked so young,you handled aging with deft
We thought nothing was wrong, you hid it with your smile
To make your stay here all worth while

Nameless,
I've named this,
For who knows the contents could be,
Reminded I am,
Of gravestones left unmarked,
Once were,
But today not a name to be seen...
When I gaze upon these,
I still send my respects,
I have not a clue,
As to resting is who,
Send love from my chest,
Move to the next,
Nothing is more I could do...
I guess for a second,
All I can rekon,
Is to imagine the being below,
Of their life's journey,
Those they've effected,
I only guess,
But never could know...
I hope they have felt,
My intents of respects,
And know they are not forgotten,
In fact I do say,
Right here today,
I do not even know my own place,
In this here world,
For which we are thrown,
My meaning,
Still yet,
Unknown...
So I visit as a friend,
A simple kind gesture,
A gift of my salutations,
You lay there,
As I stand afoot,
A quick connection of Nations...
I do hope it was felt,
That I so alone,
Considered a guest,
Of your home...
The Cemetery.