Resting Place

We find small moments
together moments
permeating our history
moments on that bridge
I saw last week
when my feet carried me farther
than I had intended
down a path I’d walked
only once before

It was a grave of memory
that I almost avoided
but found myself crossing
stirring the dead
the love that had been dashed
as we leaned on railings
and fell out
where we left we
and went our own ways

When people ask me
if I like where I live
there isn’t an easy answer
I like it just as well
where I’ve died
the haunts I return to
night after night
my bed a mausoleum
myself a corpse

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