The leaves swirl as the Autumn air sends the bottom of my coat adrift
I stare at the cold stone
Pacing,
Thinking,
Wishing
The stone symbolizes nothing to me, it’s unnecessary
The granite shape becomes a blur
Streaks of my rosy cheeks feel warm
I taste the salty liquid in the corner of my parched lips
“Cry,” they tell you, “It’ll make you feel better.”
Crying never made me feel better, it made me feel worse
The sorrow of this moment, how can I feel better?
The tall trees sway in the wind
Drifting,
Shifting,
Shading
The grass, wet and unsuspecting, shifts, too
The sepulchral day, made worse by the dimming sky
I hear faint murmurs in the background
The sobs of transient relatives consume the venomous wind
I look around, flowers occupy every exit, every way out of this anguished place
Help is all I need, it’s all I want
A chance to leave this hell
Inferno,
Pit,
Conflagration
The curious eyes wander towards me
I’ve told them many times, “I don’t need goddamn consoling.”
I’m fine, really
Plop,

Plop,


Plop
Raining commences and the throng departs
Leaving the necropolis vacant and void
Empty,
Unoccupied,
Bare
Except for me
I amble on, denying the end, refusing to let go
I take my time, and the rain feels refreshing on my fervent face
Goodbye, the word I’ve been looking for all this time
The leaves swirl as the Autumn air sends the bottom of my coat adrift