My hair has been gently touched by your hands
When they were still warm
How will I ever get it cut?
When you cut yourself off from me

What happened when I was gone?
If you ask...
I don't need to smile anymore...

We have become good friends with death
We both know that life is just a feeble breath
We hang out together and he gives me the strength
He kisses my heart and I hold his hand

Death talks to me and asks me no questions
He accepts me as I am without suggestions
He is trustworthy and has authentic perceptions
He is my best friend and has no deceptions

Difficult to leave and impossible to forget
He has my back no matter what
He prevents loneliness and fret
He has walked into my life after you walked out.

I sit against the boulder
Listening to the thuds and barks off my shoulder

As I get older
Life does not make me any bolder

It is only getting colder
Losing the ones around once they get closer

A dream
or a hallucinated
fantasy
or an illusion
of a fully theorized
delusional
hypothetical
visionary
abstract
idealized
conception of
all love should be like
in the streams of my
unconscious
consciousness
is
you