Ghazal of Loss

It has been almost a year since you've had your tombstone. 
We'd be married next month if it wasn't for your tombstone. 

They found your two year old son, dehydrated, next to your 
body.  This life wilting memory will always be, his tombstone. 

I'll never forget how we met, through Myspace, that profile
full of friends and pictures and links, now your tombstone.

It's amazing it's still active, to leave comments whenever,
this one-sided blog board that has become your tombstone. 

Internet is a graveyard, its people and fields. I need only start
my computer, and bring pixel flowers to visit your tombstone.

We fu@ked in your office, boss watching, the movie theaters,
on a tree, but never your twisted fetish, on a tombstone. 

Everyday Duck's on the internet, spending time in the grave-
yard, getting his profile right, creating the perfect tombstone.