but did you really die?

showed up at your funeral

hoping to love you one last

time...

while the skeletons begin

the service, the Sun comes

out to drain the Crow’s

Soul.

Only for the sky to

Turn a grey kind of black

            ..nothing reminds me of love

Like the eyes sinking into your face...

BLACK but not cold.

 Worrying about something 

we can’t change seems

     like such a shame, such a waste.

Time can’t be bought

   Nor given  

everybody dies.