headstone

my identity is a graveyard overgrown

and it is difficult to differentiate between my own existence and the entity who you swore to love

for she and I shared nothing but a heart beat

and you and I shared nothing but our bed sheets

and yet here I kneel digging my own grave and lining it with the skin you traced so thoroughly

I tuck myself in beneath layers of heartache and comfort myself with my dirt caked nails

satisfied next time your eyes meet mine you'll find nothing of the girl you left behind

she is in her grave and I am the shovel

and you are the stone

but I am the one writing the inscription

and it will read

"she who lies here has died"