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Sentimental, I placed my testament
under stones to hold memories down.
Times when I feel unreserved
I find my way here to relieve my guilt.
My moods change like the seasons.
You left me your mental illnesses.
A family heirloom would be nice
instead of the raging war in my head.
Try to be sincere with my visits.
Thoughts push their way forward
when I least expect them to.
In death as in life, you put a distance
between us, secretly writing demands.
Choosing a cemetery on a hill
where Autumn’s colors paint
a magnificent background.
Small, white church, perched
on one side, looks peaceful.
A place where we knew noone.
Far away from any family ties.
Almost seems you wanted control
that you never had being alive.
I’m torn between hoping you
found rest from being weary,
and wishing my stepfather
had ignored your hidden letter.
What kind of person am I?
donetta sifford 10-20-2014
Written for Magpie Tales Mag 242