Gift

“First we feel. Then we fall.”

― James Joyce

in all cuts and fabrics

I wear only funeral blacks

in spite the pulse 

and the heart beat

there are moments 

of death, so vivid

that I fear

by this year end

my corpse will start rotting

the worms of your words

eating the core

of my heart

and then slowly

your oblivion

towards my pain

will stop hurting

time for new year gift!
dress me as a bride

and please buy me 

a lovely coffin

called love !