This life. These people. Who can shatter
at least impact.
But I suppose we live in denial.
For I don’t think that we will
be living this life as we are
if we knew how delicate it is.
I imagine you hands and their gentle grip.
You lips, how they curl when they smile,
and how lovely the words they utter.
You skin that shudders and shivers.
I imagine all this and all that is yours
And hence it is mine.
But when you lifeless body
meets its promised destiny.
Will you still be mine?
Those eyes, that skin, those hands
And you will rot away
till you are part of this earth.
And you will be everywhere,
but still I would be alone.
Is that love?
Is it love that makes my hand tremble
at the mere thought of you not being there.
Let’s choose this love
that will be end of me, end of you.
Let’s accept the pain this love is.
Because nothing we do,
no pain that we give each other
can be worse than what we will be left with
in the end.