I Am Forever, If You Are Mine. {Poem}

For all the melancholy fillings you

stuffed me up whole; Sewed me up tight.

The string pressed gently, tugged at my heart

and wouldn't let go.

But the things could never reach, for they

never could replace the heart that doesn't seem

to realize death is, most definitely, most inevitably,

most insensitively, an adequate measure of

how strong or passionate you can be.

And maybe we could live forever, such a possibility,

such a dream, such a thought, such a thing, 

with all these ingredients we've acquired over these long past years...

If you number the cracks in the palm,

can you count my years left too? Left to pour into my jar

and keep them safe, so I don't lose them yet;

they like to sneak by me. Don't forget me?

Don't lose me? Don't let me go.

For I am such a fragile thing, being sold to love,

this slave that cannot conquer his bindings,

his trappings, his feet. Because the feet stay in place, loyal.

And maybe we can't live forever,

but we can pretend to be immortal treasures 

if you would let me in?

For all the melancholy fillings you

always made me happy in the end...