as you bring life into a lifeless shell
and piecing together millions of pieces
of a shattered heart
resuscitating a breathless soul,
an emotional wreck of a body
whose battered skin, covered by black
and blue
trying to make me believe that i can feel,
again,
that i am ready for another round
of gunshots, of wounds, of vulnerability,
of love lost once, twice,
thrice?
do know you will be the life of me,
the death of me.
p.s: rindu.
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