poetry | gravesite

you can also read this on instagram if you like <3

i was born into my grave,

crying and respirating and blood

circulating through my veins.

my grave is filled with love and

memories, flowers of

a passerby and the possibility

of the nothing and everything

that i came to be.

when my name is called and my

babbling mouth can only

say so much, you

smile and nod at me

like the crib you built,

lined with love and compassion,

wasn’t my first gravestone.