I buried him here
beneath this ocean sand
is where I dug a hole and buried him.
When I met him in December,
he had promised me the world,
that his friendship would stand
so tall by my side, like his legs on my bed.
In January he fled
and the heart he awoken split and flipped
and the joy he created dried, and cracked
and the words he spoke wore thorns for thongs.
I buried him here,
beneath this washed sand.
I counted each grain I placed in his grave,
one for each second I drowned believing him.
(Featured photo by Somto)
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