How is your demise,
Appearing, before your eyes?
How are those closed lies,
Looking, before your closed lids?
How is every detail, quitting you,
While you remember what is deemed
Only by you,
To be necessary for memory?
There are many things you should remember,
But, you’ll only remember specifics,
It is a pathetic way.
How is your guilt treating you?
How is it kissing you?
You seem to have cuddled with it,
Shared your bed with it,
Like death for a corpse,
Like music for the lonely muse,
Like silence for a shot deer,
Like peace for a cancer patient,
And you seem to be warm, when alone,
Among the numbness,
Like harmonies growing loudly.
We were together, in love, once to ourselves.
We were once alone, with our hearts, tangled in veins,
And now, you are alone, with your mind in its Hell,
I do hope your guilt is treating you well.