grave after grave

Prompt: I didn’t know what to do; I just knew it needed to stop. Grave after grave after grave. I got tired of burying my friends.

The darkness weaves protectively around me as I stand in the woods. I’m here to bury the bodies, not to dig up distant memories. I never thought I’d be capable of murder, but when one has always been a minor character in someone’s tale, it becomes so easy to kill what used to be, and bury the shallow remains.

This grave marks a friendship that I thought would last forever. It rests in peace now. A non toxic death, it was. Yet sorrowful. Shadows cast over the grave: a reminder of the vows, tears, and joy we used to share.  It was the type of love that struggled to flourish with growth, and instead of taking on the world together, it seemed our paths ventured into destinations without each other. It’s hard to keep a flame burning, when someone else is insistent on blowing it out. So I decided to take the match and burn it instead. Instead of reigniting fires, I decided to put them out for once.

I bow to pay my respects to a friendship that was dead from the inside. I place the naïve lilies on the grave and feel no pain in my heart. There used to be a time when it tore me apart, caring for someone who gave you the cold shoulder. One day, I grew tired of the waiting. In cold blood, I made the choice  to pick up the gleaming scissors and snip all ties. I mean, how could you resuscitate a friendship that wasn’t alive in the first place? That only started breathing faintly when they needed the love you had to give so freely. Then sudden death when their moment in need has elapsed. But now I’m cold and callous and have no desire to keep sowing us together with the thread of selfless love I possess.

This friendship was a killer. I was only defending myself from the poison being spread in my system. I didn’t want to be the victim and continue to be choked and suffocated by twisted love. I take a shovel and dump more dirt over the grave. It took a while to escape and a while to validate my worth; yet this death was justifiable when I no longer had my character assassinated by a friend.

I know it seems cruel to take the knife from my back and stab our memories into obliteration but I don’t need them.  They became corrupted the moment you took my trust and sold it to the devil. Everything began to rot the moment you decided to betray our bond, and in that moment I decided I want to drain our friendship of life. I cried a little, as I buried you; I didn’t think we’d end up this way. But we did, and I did what I had to do. If that makes me a bitch, then so be it.

I feel the most guilt over burying you half alive. Our friendship lacked substance, yet at times we reached out and tried to resurrect our dead souls. It was like you was solid, and I was a ghost. I watched myself drift further and further away, yet all the while I filled your empty cup with love when you needed it. I think you were hurting me without meaning to and that’s why I silently waited. For death to creep up upon us. I place flowers on this grave. Maybe one day they will flourish. It’s hard to have hope. You only know how many dead flowers you’ve been watering, till you stop trying.

They made me ruthless. I grew tired of waiting, and grew tired of digging graves for friendships. That’s why I’m ice cold now; the less your heart cares, the less emotional ties you’ll have to kill, and the less friendships you’ll have to mourn. I didn’t mean to be a killer. Grave after grave after grave. I got tired of burying my friends. I knew it needed to stop. I didn’t want to be a killer. So I chose to give the knife to my friends and watch them kill our friendship the moment they stopped caring.

A/N what are your thoughts?

you can read my last poem, guardian angel, here, and i would love to hear your thoughts on demon child. if you enjoy my content, it would mean a lot, if you followed or shared with someone else who may enjoy too.