A land far away
Dark drawing rooms have seen me leave, and I've grown accustomed to their simple layouts
Sofas in faded rustic brown leather shades seem ever so soft, their hardened cushions flattening in time
Cobalt hand prints sealed forever by the side of fragile windows lit in the cowering shade of a pale half moon
The human body adapts forever fast, and hence, I must say, don't cry too much when I'll be going
I'll slowly shed my skin in shallow grace and be the same colour as the earth far beyond
Golden frames holding dear memories of unknown lands, by the winding stairwell one would never again know
Canvas imprints in unknown languages hanging with the wardrobe posters, the closet neither far behind
Cream cushion covers held dear to one's winding heart, and the criss cross of greys along the white walls
I'll be fine too, must I say, as the sweet maggots nibble at my pale heart
They too will know the haven of our dreams, our child in my arms, by side
White marble floors and patches of grey, riddled with your beautiful steps
And before you sleep say a small prayer
And carry me gently to a forever land
-Lillith
The poem follows the simple layout of one's memory before death
In queer narratives, the partner is expected to leave before morning sets
And just like it happened throughout his life, even in the end when the narrator is about to die,
He recalls the details of his home which he wished to set up with his partner
He briefly mentions their dream for a child (whose existence was impossible, hence implied death)
He says to bury him before any clarity may arrive and that he'll be okay for the human body is adept to adapting
And therefore each detail speaks of a beautifully lived, ephemeral life
