my poems sway of love, tragedy, and growth
and at most times, you tug me into undead thoughts

a moment to reminisce into a play of illusion,
we sat across each other, making the most of there is
your existence, your memory forms a remarkable fusion
you're a masterpiece sitting before me, a view I long to seize

you were a nostalgic daydream from the past,
you held my hand, captivated my eyes, with a spell of love you cast.

you were there before me, alive in a memory and illusion
slapping myself back to reality; you're undead but gone and changed
I am haunted by a romantic, untold tale that left me estranged
this is a play of illusion, nothing but a subconscious' work, I stare at the empty space, reaching a dead-end conclusion.

IA