it was my turn to dig again on the ground,
where we buried the secrets we chose to forget.
Covered now by decaying leaves of the watchful tree
that stood like a quiet sentinel that towered
over our sweat slicked bodies.
did we bury our secrets that deep?
it was my turn to dig again but all that i could see
were tattered remains of memories that fell apart,
as my fingers scraped them off this part of the earth
where we buried them with our promises and tears.
am i digging for something that no longer exists?
or did we bury what used to be us beyond our reach,
left to die a silent death with the worms feasting
on souls that are still trapped within beating chests?
-©The Elusive Scribe 030414-