Crying Gravestones

In the cemetery of my heart,
each gravestone bears your name.
Every love I buried there
was a piece of you—
a silent, unmarked wound.

I visit them often,
tracing cold inscriptions
with trembling fingers.
Tears fall,
watering the earth
of memories best forgotten.
Yet still,
they bloom—
flowers of longing,
petals stained with sorrow.

I gave you everything—
my soul,
my breath,
even the hope I once held dear.
But your gaze,
distant as a fading star,
saw none of it.
You passed me by,
leaving only shadows.

The gravestones cry with me,
their weeping etched in stone.
Each drop a reminder
of unspoken words,
of love that withered
before it ever bloomed.

I kneel before the past,
haunted by echoes
of all I couldn’t be.
Yet even in grief,
I can’t let you go.

These stones will stand forever—
monuments to a love
you never claimed,
and a heart
that couldn’t forget.