TW: mentions of death and sex
I entered a neighborhood graveyard & dig out frames
& epitaphs of its inhabitants with a heart of questioning.
Questions that hover around almost everyone’s mind,
Wanting to know why dead people die and build indestructible
Wall of defence between themselves and their acquirements.
A violent wind gushed out of each household in this yard,
Which quenched my quest for answers & amongst what I saw,
Was a man that died on top of his lover, but what’s pleasure?
Except the one that follows the moon down & rises with the sun,
& the grief of death is larger than the pleasure of sex.
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