Life and money and time are
Finities
I can only escape in death
And yet
I feel free and
Adamantine, unlimited and
Everlasting—
But only for you.

It is as if
You are dead to me,
I to you—
In a good way.

Are we alive and
Finite?
Or dead and
Without bounds?
Perhaps a bit of both,
For our hearts beat
Just the same,
Though we are, too,
Dead inside—
In a good way.