Cemetaries are similar to the grassy maps we carry.
We have our own boxes stored with decaying past.
Burying our glimpses of life.
Perserving to visit on days of anniveraries, birthdays, dead love affairs.
Maybe like into bones, when we are older, the past becomes hard
and silent.
About Me
- soliquity
- loved. old soul. family. peace. trees. finding the big in the little of life.
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