
Love blocks my mind.
The memories of you are all too explicit
even for this rhyme;
a rhyme of undying love.
The headstone would have read as follows:
Here lies everything that beauty once was.
Here rests every beautiful thing that could have been.
If our love had died, we could put it to rest
but it is still living in my mind
and it will forever rest here.
For every beautiful thing that you were
and for every blind eye that I ever turned
that even the darkest soil cannot cover.
If our love had died, we could bury it with the rest of our past.
But it is still here
I still carry it on my back
and in my mind.
You can always hold onto me
because here rests my heart.
It is here if you ever want it back again.
It is only rightfully yours.
We never talk about the dead.
Why should we,
when there is no bringing life back?
But there is no headstone here,
only broken Earth
concealing a broken heart.
Even the dead are never forgotten;
a legacy is left in the living's wake.
But the living are not alive
until they have experienced the other side.
And here lies our love
in the broken mess of life.
Someday, we can have it all back
because I will never to let it die.
And someday, I will learn to be alive.
The memories of you are all too explicit
even for this rhyme;
a rhyme of undying love.
The headstone would have read as follows:
Here lies everything that beauty once was.
Here rests every beautiful thing that could have been.
If our love had died, we could put it to rest
but it is still living in my mind
and it will forever rest here.
For every beautiful thing that you were
and for every blind eye that I ever turned
that even the darkest soil cannot cover.
If our love had died, we could bury it with the rest of our past.
But it is still here
I still carry it on my back
and in my mind.
You can always hold onto me
because here rests my heart.
It is here if you ever want it back again.
It is only rightfully yours.
We never talk about the dead.
Why should we,
when there is no bringing life back?
But there is no headstone here,
only broken Earth
concealing a broken heart.
Even the dead are never forgotten;
a legacy is left in the living's wake.
But the living are not alive
until they have experienced the other side.
And here lies our love
in the broken mess of life.
Someday, we can have it all back
because I will never to let it die.
And someday, I will learn to be alive.

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