Our Love's Burial

I’m sorry to admit I buried us long before
you ever visited our grave,
long before the shadows grew teeth and claws.
I couldn’t come back to you,
not the way I used to.
I buried my love for you with our tangled memories,
and brought a cross and garlic
to keep you from whispering through the soil,
saying we were never quite buried,
coming back to haunt me like a ghost.

I’m sorry I couldn’t say I still love you
when your voice cracked and trembled.
Sorry I couldn’t be there for you
when your demons clawed their way out.
But my demons were caged, snarling behind iron bars,
and no matter how hard I tried,
yours tried to drag me into the abyss with you.
So I had to bury it all,
shovel the dirt over our history, set it ablaze.

I still remember how it burned,
a pyre of broken dreams and ashes,
leaving nothing but a wasteland behind.
We were a forest fire, beautiful and destructive,
and now, only charred remains stand where we once bloomed.
But please, let our long-buried love rest in peace;
do not dig up its bones, do not breathe life into its dust—
it's only going to be cursed,
a reverent of what once was,
haunting the desolate landscape of where love once was.