Cardboard Gravestones

I walk through a cemetery of past loves. There are short rows of cardboard gravestones with boys’ names scrawled across them the same way I used to write them in my notebooks. I smile at some, chuckle at others. One is frustrating. A few nearly move me to tears. But I can’t bring myself to look up when I get to the end. I don’t want to know if you’re only going to end up as a part of my past. I want your name stamped across my soul, not just on a flimsy slab of memories in the back of my mind.

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