Thursday, September 24, 2009


when i tell you i love you
little do i know that
what i say
is written in stone,
my epitaph.
every word i say
fizzles in the air
and trickles gently away
with a sly smile
knowing full well
that it will see me one day
my epitaph.
every thought
as if alive
scurries over the gentle, pliable granite
in soft indentations,
hard lines and curves,
blurry words
that mean nothing to passers by
but every thought
every word
everything i do
waits for me
in the crowded, humid hallways of the end
to see which will be chosen as my epitaph.
"I'd rather leave a thought behind than a child"
what thought?
how do i know
that the thought that i picked out for You to remember me by
will remain carved into your memory?
or the memories that i wanted you to forget
the pain
the hurt
the embarrassment
will not stay etched longer than the rest?
how do you know
what your epitaph will be..
how many epitaphs will i have
how many thoughts
am i leaving behind
how will i ever know?
that is why we fear death,
not because we don't know what lies ahead
but we can never trust the things we leave behind.

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