I did it secretly.

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.

I believed

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.