One day they might cut me open
just to see all the little ways
in which I was killed.
They will not need to dig deep
nor need to slice very much
to find all those names.
I wonder how they will react
when they see the meticulousness
with which I carved in there.
What will they say upon seeing
the hallowed chambers of my heart
where I consecrated you?
Will they laugh at or lament my liturgy?
Will they ask why you were there
listed among these precious few?
Will they even recognise that in those scratches
I left the best parts of myself?
Or will my work with that worn chisel
remain my undiscovered sin?
You will never need to feel ashamed
or regretful of appearing among
those who ended me.
With these words, I gouge out another letter
and blow the stone dust from its grooves.
With these words, I take another small step through grief.