people say you die twice.
once, when you stop breathing
twice, when someone says your name
for the last time.

I fall in love with a poet,
and she never stop carving
each letters of my name
Ink seeps from veins and arteries
she pours the warmth of my blood
drawing a line between real and fake

shamelessly, to remember
her name is encapsulated
in eternity, through her words