There was a cold chill in the hot summer air. I come here often, to this cemetery to see her grave. I never bring a jacket, though. The chills are normal for the spot around her grave, they never bother me. I like to think of them as being her way of saying hello, because there's never any other cold spots near any of the other graves.
Ah well, I should be getting home. 'Cause I can never stay out here for very long, I mean with my health. It's a wonder I haven't caught anything yet, cause I never come out here with a jacket. Just a long sleeved shirt and your everyday hat...sometimes I wear gloves.
Oh, ah. Look, there she is. As gorgeous as the day when I first laid my eyes on her, I never see her around anymore much though. Just about...hmmm maybe 2 times per week.
Used to be everyday, well uh. Must of been the crowd of people here lately. There's been another death in this town. Lots of people come here. They come here, celebrate the dead person's life, and then they gradually just stop comin'. But anyway, she's here. Near that building there. She dances around, all graceful like, just for me, because I'm the only person who ever sees her. She dances around, then goes back to her grave. The time period is never more, nor less, of fifteen minutes. Not a second too late, not a second too early.
- Title: Lost Love
- Artist: Cynical Cyanide Overdose
- Description: An elderly man makes a visit to his wife's grave and sees something unexpected. I wrote this many years ago in middle school and haven't changed anything, not even once. This is one of my most favorite pieces of writing.
- Date: 01/19/2013