No more asking of “what” and “why”;

As always, silence replaces the weeping.

I keep repeating that you are not alive,

But you are not dead either, you are just sleeping.

I hear your steps on the staircase,

Your voice rushes in, then, the smell of your hair.

You smile at me, and I look through your face

As the cold of eternity fills up the air

And rests on the lifeless face ...

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