Père-Lachaise

Père-Lachaise.

Where we first spoke.

I turned my head.

And saw your ghost.

Hands are white.

Breath is cold.

Heart is beating.

The story you told.

Heart has stopped.

It’s all a lie.

Go back to Père-Lachaise.

And all will be fine.

You're not me.

I tell myself.

Find it hard to believe.

It’s all a lie.

It’s all a lie.

I will be fine.

GO BACK TO PÈRE-LACHAISE.

scream

choke

moss

heart

stop

help

no

I’m fine

it’s all a lie

nothing’s real

everything I touch is real

moss

trees

stones

cobbles

bones

ghosts

spoke

told 

stop.