The Death of Time

I mourn for our our future.

The death of our dreams

And what our life should be.

A black veil conceals the wedding aisle,

A closed casket suffocates the giggles of our unborn kids.

Names picked out;

Beginning, middle, and end

All wash away written in the sand.

I mourn for our future

Because that is no longer the one we have to look forward to.

They say a pregnant woman’s child comes out like the person she most hates.

With superstition and genetic’s partnership far from my corner I can’t help but say,

Three weddings and funeral… I’d rather have no wedding, yet a funeral for a future that no longer awaits.

by Elizabeth Ferrer-Alfonso

College student from Miami, FL majoring in Journalism. An aspiring writer obsessed with poetry, all things metaphysical, spirituality, and latinx/hispanic empowerment.

More From Poetry


by Arianna Urban

I Wish You Knew

by Amanda Walker

The Essence of A Woman

by Andrea Russell

Ocean Vuong and Experimental Fiction

by Tamara Al-Qaisi-Coleman

The Name That Only I Know

by Jasmine Smith