the unloved

in the mist I see them walking.

the years
of them.

long and short. wordless and tired,
now

at this age.
back from war, back from being
lonely
and unwanted.

given up on beauty,
that battle long lost.

ghosts wanting to lie down,
tired

of less, exhausted by less.

never getting more.

and as they slip out of sight
it comes to me that
the graves
are filled with

the unfulfilled,
the unloved, and given
time
there will be more.