I’ve found that love tears me
like a papercut
sharp enough to draw blood

And I hold a heart
that’s been torn apart,
but it still beats over the
rhythm of your name

It is brutal
to have reached for
my trembling hand
and hold it

only to dust me off
back to my grave
without a goodbye
nor a burial

It is cruel
to have made me
believe I am one
with the livings

only to make my
second death
far more ******

O, tragedy indeed

I once wanted to ask
if she’d ever met a heavy heart
with such aching pores

See, I yearned for death
till I forgot I’m still
one with the livings

Perhaps I didn’t know
I‘m still here
till she reached
for the palm of my hand,
but it’d start to sweat
so I shy away

When the doctors cut the cord
that was wrapped around my neck,
and ever since that moment
they resuscitated me as a baby
I grew up with the fascination
of cords caressing my neck

I almost did

twice

Until dawn,
a cigarette ash
flew into her right eye

The cigarette remained alight
despite the flood of tears
streaming down her cheeks  

With such a hell
blazing inside her,
she put out fire with smoke

Solitude was her
only consolation,
and all she longed for

There is not a soul
that she yearns for,
but for hers to burn out