Poetry

By Federica Murillo | Edited by Paige Chinn

in the after dark, 
i walk past 
the afterlife of futures we never had. 

i touch a grave, 
our names etched in stone— wasted possibilities lying beneath the earth. 

i feel the weight 
of what could have been. 

but the worst part is 
i cannot complain: 
i buried you in the first place, and now, i know, nothing will ever be 
the same.