What was love but a disease to ease the lonely feelings? flowers thrown into a grave alive where no one else would see them die except the one for whom their death was made. I wore you like a smile, quickly donned and lost, but my face never changed. I gave you all my body as it was all I had the madness of a soulless life unraveled in the touching hands, and I cried to know that when you left you took all of the light. Make me your home that I can then be you, I gave up being me, a broken voice long dead before its echoes even reach long distant stars. I’d die but were it not too far. Let my eulogy say that I did not want to be alone, and had I known how lonely love would be, I’d still have chosen the disease