The Graveyard

Dreams of loss of the present

A simple walk in an area of desolation.
Holding hands tightly to embrace the biting cold.
Lovelorn.
The final glance at your so-called love becomes your final smile.
Another glance reveals just a floating arm.
Void of all else, yet as if the body is just invisible.
Yet another glance occurs.
Body remains in an seemingly autonomous walk,
While just a blood-oozing neck is remaining.
No head.
The grip of hands is suddenly broken.
She haphazardly tumbles to the foliage-laden ground.
Almost as if life had just been stolen viciously.
The final glance reveals nothing;
For she has disappeared entirely.
All remains but my gift of a Christmas plush-toy.
The necklace; a puddle of molten exodus.
The plush-toy; stained by scarlet blood.
Rapidly oxidising.
Such a vixen of confusion.
The demons lie possessed.
Funeral veils adorn all in the desolate yard of urns.
I being at the back --
Dressed in black.
Her family's eyes all glare at me through the crowd.
Their bitter tears.
Feeling of inadequacy form.
A cold sweat begins.
I awake.

The End

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