R.I.P

my poems are like a graveyard of memories
a cemetery of all my moments,
filled with the dead emotions
a collection of loves that died and killed me in the process.
broken graves filled with empty promises, meaningless words, and broken hearts.
and like a person grieving someone,
i visit them and remember
what life was like when these words dripped from my lips.

my poems are like a timeline of my emotions
from love to hate and back to love then hate again
and i can’t help but wonder
what will your headstone say?