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.
