Why do tears well up
at the thought of your own death,
even though there is no
love lost for you?
Having covered a distance
from the real love lost,
the pain manages to move on with faint
remains in the crevices with no meaning.
There is a moving ahead
out of life to rid yourself of the
burden of carrying memories
at a station where the train
does not halt.
The point of living gets
lost for body and soul together.
Tears fall when you really want
to say goodbye and stack memories
in the closet of oblivion.
Without possessions to pass on,
the handing over is always ready
but for the blank space for signature.
