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What if, you actually turn around and tell me, no, you can’t bear me anymore?
What if, you read my poems again and tell me, it is all as flawed as I am?
What if, you pick my postcards and want to throw their tatters back in my face?
What if, you see me and tell me, neither are my words beautiful nor I am?
What if..
And as I type.. I slowly feel.. like I might just live through it all,
only if living will be like a breathless existence,
a death brought on an walking body whose system shall work,
the mind half numb but the heart whole paralyzed.
Will I be then worth than any life?
So i want to die tonight itself, to become the epitaph of silence,
in the beautiful belief of the relief that you still love me,
perhaps in the last grasp of that hour when I spoke to you, I thought so, that you did.
No death shall appear more beautifully peaceful than this.

~ Purvi Petal, 11 July©2015

_ill_love_you_after_death__by_arieruinuyasha

Sometimes you are so scared, all you want to do is go hide in a graveyard for the next score of years. 😦
In short, you’re so scared, you can barely breathe, you’d rather die only. :/

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