It was a cold blooded murder.
It hurt, the pain eating into my flesh
Bleeding till death.
The place I planned to bury,
My heart, was the cradle of everything.
Nurturing the first rush of adrenaline
To the last bleed of breath.
It to last from the cradle to the grave.
As it bloomed, flowered.
Till the fruit was forbidden.
I tried burying it deep inside.
All my effort in vain to seal it.
It would surface time & again
To feed on my pain
I started to build a tomb,
Still I couldn’t find enough
To stuff thousands of them
Memories that carved a niche
All of which seem nothing, like a cliché
I was lost, defeated.
I stopped with two words
Carved on the tomb, ‘never ever’
I knew, I can’t help
But live with them.
Till someone digs a grave for me on my behalf.