Every weekend, Grandpa.

Every weekend i go to his grave
Get on my knees
and then once again, i pray.

I tell him about my life.
& things things hes missing.
How Ive changed
& how often I'm reminiscing.

I always cry,
even though I try to hold it in
Seems like my sadness
always seems to win.

I go on for hours
until it gets dark.
I slowing walk away
and ignore any embark

I know I'm not over this,
so for now Ill just pretend.
that my life is perfect
& my heart has no need to mend