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.
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