You're dead

I go to the old haunted graveyard.

I walk amongst the graves.

Sometimes, somehow, I come by yours.

But I see not you, just your grave.

Many pass by your grave.

But only I knew what lay 6 feet under.

How you looked. How you felt.

How you lived. How you loved.

I loved you. You were the best I ever had.

You still are.

You do not reveal yourself to me.

When I am there, you are just a silent grave.

Talking to you is like talking to myself.

You who I loved is dead.

Sometimes, when I watch you grave from the shadows,

I see your ghost appear to join the ghostly party.

But the moment I appear is when you disappear.

Where did you go? Can’t you appear to me?

Can you really be dead?

You’ve become just a memory.

A memory dwelling in my heart.

You were someone to me

Not just any dead person in a grave.