Two birds
I imagined your death before your birth, it made your silence easier to understand. When you left, there was no funeral, so I carried the ritual each day. A quiet ceremony, bearing the weight of things unsaid. I tried to swallow you whole, not in hunger but in need, to become part of my breath. But love is not a vapory chimera. It clenches a stubborn shadow, stained beneath the skin, refusing release. Is death a malignancy or liberation? I ask not with sorrow but with restless thought. Time away, almost cruel, never learned mercy. And love is not biodegradable, but life-processed. She is a woman of virtue, so resolutely good that her kindness suffocates, a mirror reflecting society's unyielding demands. She lingers, not free yet unbroken, an ineffable enigma the cosmos hesitates to unravel. Written by : Vvu.