Haunt Me !

There is a time; it may come to you too
death becomes familiar and a part of life
(if not, something in the mustard you eat)
When beloveds leave looking for better places
Hoping not to ruin the beauty existing
Death becomes you or vice versa.
Only in Japan it is said, death is glorious much as life.
I’m not sure. Learnt it from re-reading a book
Say it’s true, who is happier then- the dead or the living?
Who is dead anyway?
Whom to whom,
That’s what matters.
Perhaps death and love both are mental conditions,
when it happens, unforgivably, unrestrained,
I yearn in my simpleton mind
a specific ghost to rock in a chair
when I come to switch lights on
in mornings yet dark
I wish it knocks on the door then hides
Spit on the food- I don’t care
I wish it haunts me
so I’m not left behind.

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