It's goa my love,  
the piece of earth that you cherish.  
Streets are narrow and quaint,  tiled roofs falling over each other,  
clinging to the beam by their nails.  
Atmosphere is sultry with sun,  *** and surreality.
Surrounding me is you,  in a warm womb of induced coma.
How will it be if my head were to be in your lap,  
your fingers combing through my curlies?  
Should death come at this moment,  
I would welcome it with an embrace.  

Heat,  a beating heart and a stiffness in my *****,  
my last few vestiges of emotion.