Lover's Death

It was indeed a funny sight. Caught in the undeniable rapture of life had rendered me completely unaware.

This body was not my own, it felt soft yet not soft enough. Delicate yet sturdy, durable but far to easily breakable.

Yet, I could breathe. I could feel the thrilling rush of air fighting its way into my lungs. I was alive. The thrill that followed that very thought was to hard to ignore.

Again, I rode over that bridge of ecstasy, this body was mine. Given to me, made for me. Yet I did not know whether it was my mind or heart that still made me feel out of place.

I did not belong here.

Dead, I am dead.... I was dead. I knew it.

The coldness, dept of obsidian dreams, dirt, my grand return to nature.

"Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust".
.
.
.
.

A young woman given another shot at life, in a body that she does not recognise yet it calls to her, it feels like home. Soon enough, she would realise that no one came back from the dead for leisure and maybe just maybe sometimes death is the better option.