PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You did not tell me― 
what did you want? 

Departure was sad, 
unceremonious, escaping 
an epitaph. 
My legs become heavy. 

Unthinkingly, you 
write on the wall with foggy hands. 
The silhouettes tremble. 

Who will break this 
infernal cycle of reincarnation? 
That means, we should redefine 
the death. 

Nonetheless 
a creed is born. 

You walk on the burning coals 
to pick up the poppies, 
a gift of torn love.