Yellowish brown leaves

Falling to the ground


Black clouds fly over them

Expelling tears and they



Funeral bells and funeral songs

Dirges and  the deadbodysmell

Hospital beds with coughing corpses

Waiting rooms racked with sobs

Heaving bodies and broken hearts.


There’s a beauty to death

One that you cannot admit to

Admiring, one that you cannot,

Shall not notice. But it is there.


I see myself fall to my knees,

In my head, helpless, useless.

Years later I thought of the tears

Brought by memory. Brought by death.


I saw you hold in your thoughts

Sweatdripdrops on creased brow

I saw the love pour out like

Too much water in washed clothes.

When would they dry?


You asked.

Time, I said.

Time heals, I said.

It healed me, I said.

I almost said I wasn’t broken.

I was broken, it would have been wrong

If I wasn’t.


There’s a beauty to a carcass

Torn to pieces by dogs in a

Forest, the body abandoned in

Death as life abandoned it.


There’s a charm to the dead

Mosquito I just crushed beneath

The palm of my hand, the blood it

Sucked is glittering, sparkling.


There is a beauty I see in life

As it slowly dies

As it slowly decays

As it flickers and then



I loved you, I thought.

Why don’t the tears come?

I loved you, I say,

You were the pieceofheartthatwasn’t

In me, you were the painting I only

Admired from afar without quite

Understanding it.


The tears don’t come.

The tears won’t come.

How can there be a physical signature

Of a grief my brain cannot feel?


Did I not love you, I wonder

When you were alive

That when death took you apart

I could not feel sad.


There was no heaviness in my heart

No tightening in my chest

No brokenshardsofincomplete


Time heals, I said.

Time healed me of the grief.

Time couldn’t heal me of the guilt.


I will die too, I am dying

Clouds shall pour as the leaf yellows

I shall cause pain by dying

A pain caused by love.

Maybe it is this love that is

Beautiful to me.


For death inspires love like

Life never can.

You never know what you’re missing

Until they’re gone.

Love lends a beauty to all it touches

A touch of green to yellow leaves

A glimpse of the rainbow in stormy weather.


Love, I lived for you. I think.

Love, I died with you. I think.

Memories of your love

Won’t let me live.

The guilt over the tears

Won’t let me die.


I am not alive.

Not dead.

I am a green leaf in a bunch

Of dead leaves left burning.

Am I alive?

Does it matter?


The tears won’t come.

The grief will not rise.

My love shall not live.

My guilt shall not die.


And I mourn, my thoughts

My dreams, memories, my life

My love in a prison created by death.

But hey, this stuff is beautiful.

I roam about in a dream world

Of collapsed forts and shattered

Skulls, in an endless search

For the tears that won’t come.


There is something beautiful about death.

There is something poetic about the idea.

There is something artistic in the concept.

There is all the grief of the tragedy in the pain.

There is all the bloom of our youthful joy in love.

There is all the world in these tears.

That just won’t come. 


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