By Rebekah Parise
Remember that time we went to the cemetery just to read the names on the stones?
I pointed in morbid glee at the stone of someone whose name was spelled the same as mine
You were more solemn than me
Taking in every letter, walking slowly, carefully
I remember you telling me you'd done this a few times before
I couldn't fathom why
Now there's a tombstone bearing your name
First and last
I hope when we are all buried and forgotten
And nobody is left to plant spring flowers
At your gravesite, there will be someone like you around
Someone walking slowly in the cemetery
Mourning every forgotten person
I hope they read your name
