#rembering
A boy on the train ran his fingers through his hair in the same way you used to. It was nice to remember... and then it wasn't.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 5:48 AM UTC
I dance between the graves of the dead, with flowers in my hair and tears in my soul, with a mind for those the world has long since forgotten, the sky is dark, yet the birds sing.
I dance between the graves of the dead, my bare feet light in tread, my eyes achingly clear, the world is sharply in focus and here at my fingertips
I dance between the graves of the dead, guided only by a longing in my heart, to remember those that lived long ago, to remember those that lived just yesterday but died too soon, yes I'm drawn by that mysterious song,
I dance between the graves of the dead, thoughts on my mind of one not dead, but one not meant to be called my own,
I tiptoe quiet now, between the graves of the dead, my heart poured out to those lost in that permanent sleep, I drop to the foot of the graves of the world, and I weep.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC