If I die tomorrow, please don't confine me in a half-hearted casket, never send me a dying flower, a condolence, and never a tear.

I am not a tragedy.

Instead...grind my bones to powder and sprinkle them to the air. Let me breathe the breath of the many I have wanted to comfort.

Let me graze upon their cheek and ruffle their hair. I want to let them know that I still care though I'm not there with them.

That I can touch them, and hold them dearly

and whisper in their hearts...

"I love you"

still in the same way I do now
and so much more tomorrow.

If ever I leave the place where you enter and both of us can never see the other,

always remember that even if my feet might never meet yours, it will follow them.

And they shall walk together, no matter how apart.

Can I live
through skin and bones
and not have soul within

Or shall I be
a floating mist
with no more touching skin

Will I run
the spinning world
with feet to plant the ground

Or will I rot
with breezing scent
and not have sprung a sound

The eye of my blood blinks crimsons
And sweat thick nuggets of gold

It glistens through sheens of purple
And flickers when it be so bold

It throbs with pulses of grayness
So stricken in pain and sore

It ravages pitches of black
And swallow it dark even more

I once had fooled a shadow
It looked not where as I
Its eyes captured horizons
Mine voyaged the sky

Then las we locked sight
Ran deep in sinking stare
Our eyes now stranded
Our minds roamed elsewhere