The cemetery is cold
The stone crumbles at my feet
Its entire presence sends my blood
boiling
I want to shout at the plots and roar at the church
“Quit stealing my friends!
They did not want you,
but you never gave them the chance to speak!”

I do not want to be the only one left,
surrounded by their rotting memories
A sweater on the couch,
a picture above the fireplace
is enough to pull me to my knees
and remind me just how hard the floor is

I do not want to think about
who it is I will be buried next to
Who will I spend forever with?
Who will be my companion
as we decay away,
staring at the lid
of a wooden box
as if it’s a television screen?

I’m afraid the answer is that I will be alone,
isolated from everyone else
Because I am alone now,
and every day feels like forever already
The last to survive
is not a title to want
because you have no one
to impress with it

My existence
is one that should hardly be defined
as “living”
Because I do not walk this earth for myself
or my own pleasure
I continue on because those who are already gone
never got the chance
to live the years
they truly deserved