the objective is merriment,

a lifetime of frustration.

what is the point?

if not for infatuation.

it bears repeating

of our frail mortality,

the most minuscule choice

ends in fatality.

we’re nearing the end,

it recently dawned

please hold me close

for fear I might abscond.

the fire is bright,

belligerence is low

if I wait one more second,

I won’t let you go.

the ashes snap quietly,

like the fissures in my heart.

for saying goodbye

lays cracks in my heart.

the beauty of death

is not what comes after

the beauty of death

is within each chapter.