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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