Mirror of death

 I wonder if I could make you happy with the nostalgia that I carry within. They become scars of past, and I wonder if it makes you feel my love. All I had was your stories and my poems. I became what the society hated, not a devil, not a monster, but a poet. 

Your love was all I could write about. I splashed into hues of colors, and all of my doubts became bridges. I walked upon them, as if I were walking upon time. I held onto them, as if I were holding onto you. I made the years, all yours. 

If time is our only limit, and death is our only nemesis, I would cheat upon them, and I would fight them, for as long as I can. Because if it's all restraints and constraints, you are my strength. I take all my steps, hoping you are waiting for me. 

And if I turn old and gray, and if you turn into dust, and if all of the world becomes a dystopia; I will look for loopholes, again and again, so I have a little over eternity to love you again.

All my heart is made of broken glass; all of your heart is made of sunshine. I am misery, you are my melancholia; a constant companion, a constant lover. And for you, my dear, I never realise, what to be alone actually means.

My lover, and I are escapists of death; but my soulmate and I are the mirrors of death; long lost lovers of death; and long forgotten lore of death.