When i'm gone,
i'd have removed all traces of myself.
You won't smell the stench of my odour lingering, always waiting,
you'll smell the scent of my dead body.
And none of you,
not a single soul,
shall shed a tear for me.
When i'm gone,
all my intentions and hopes
will scatter and bleed
along with my body.
And none of you,
not a single soul,
will resolve matters with me.
And that is fucking fine,
because when i'm still alive,
nothing is right either.
When i'm gone,
there won't be my clothings for you to hug to sleep,
or a single belonging of mine to put you in place.
Only then,
everything i've done for all of you,
all of my
hidden intentions and obvious indirects,
will be of your understanding.
soon.
(FAH)