I am, her muse, or she, is mine
How profound, is this, conjecture
Yet apt, is now, to determine
Who’ll outlast, whom, at this juncture

Two souls, bonded by birth, intellect
With a, mutual mind, and a, conjoint heart
Now stand, at crossroads, to reflect
Who will live, who shall depart!

She pled, to me, when death, I chose
“This ain’t, first fall, nor that, last spring
May, yesterdays’ dreams, fulfill tomorrows
Don’t break, to bits, hope’s rosary string!”

I’ve lived, to death, my expression
Every truth, I wrote, is a, glorified lie
Yet tangled, in, lingering liaison:
My Poesy Wants To Live, Whilst I Want To Die!

© 2019 Vikas Chandra