Succir ob laanfen ex

Lost in cluttered words
Wandering an emotional wasteland
Lightly I do step upon my many graves

Jarring grief returns
with each epitaph I read

Limping and hungry
A crow stares blankly past
Yet when I turn away
My flesh its conscious gleam does flay

I know it is you
Basked in the shade of my tallest tomb

Engraving residual words
As you scan the weathered stone
You departed as if never arrived