Aug 31, 2018
I wish there was a tombstone, so I’d have a place to mourn, instead of the never ending ache of a shallow grave. Unmarked, unknown, unnamed, lays the boy I should have been, the days I should have had. He never had a chance to grow up. No summer days, first kisses, friends. No. The girl whose life that was has long ago gone cold, murdered by my own two hands.
It was meant to be a trade. One for one. Boy for girl. Instead, here I am, a man with no past, digging grave after grave. He has no past. She has no future. I plod on, the undertaker of my own history, mourning what never was.
Someday, I’ll etch his name into marble, cry out the sounds I should have heard ever day. I’ll cry for him, weep, for all the lost sunshine and boyhood.
