It's like
as we grow
older
we lose the
unicity and uniqueness
that made us
who we claim to
be
Like drowning
in water
we die from the
thing that keeps us
*Alive.

My
funeral
   procession
     will parade
       behind the
         horse and
           carriage of
              your life
                solemn
             and respectful
            even as I leave
           it will be in silence
           like the smothering
             of my dreams
                 your life
      she hides behind her veil
    as my face is placed by the
    window            for all to see
     wrapped in the white cloth
    as your life adorns her hands
   with something blue and gold
                                   you are that
  something
     she borrowed
       and I followed
behind
           like
                 something
                                   old