There are days

When I gasp

For every breath,

Not the one in my heart

But the one

Pulsating my soul.

The thrust of time

Bit by bit

Drains my body

To an ashy residue

Not a funeral for me

No cremation either

Carrying the brunt

Of my burnt soul

Day after day

In this bodily coffin

Sometimes a breath

Warm … tender

Blows into my lips

A gush of life

I feel my inside

Yearn …

But Hope … alas

So callous a word

And your love …

So naive

To believe I can live

Oh the arrogance

Of your heart

To love a dead soul

But for the idiosyncrasy

Of the living dead

For love, we die

But live … ?


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