To those of us,
Who debate the intricacies of incessant longing
Longing that walks hand in hand with our solitary spirit
Spirit that is chained into the fossils of our identity
Identity, that we teeth into
Like a bird stealing bread, to ensure their survival
To ensure our death
To those of us,
Who cannot indulge, in the present out of fear of the future
Who cannot see beyond the past that is magnified
Who are reticent in decay, reticent beyond reason
Believe,
Believe as you did in your mother’s arms when you were young
To those of us,
Who were sold safety in death
Who were apprehensive of sunsets
Who fished for their dreams in sewers of acceptability
Who drew cautious borders around themselves
Who grew old in a room, all alone
Who will get buried in empty coffins
And be reminisced in textless tombstones
This poem is for you
I love you