One less breath

I have had my share of angst, birthed by my own self

Like a mother, I have nurtured it, felt it grow

Letting love be it's absent father

Swimming in the perennial flow of Styx and stones

When I sleep, the macabre mind weaves songs

Then comes Charon, nudging me to ride along

I have rowed many a rounds, to and fro

And then my soul seeks you, returning home

Is sleep death, or is that my aphorism ?

It could only be true, for I cannot stomach it

For over the years, that I have been in love

I have only lied to my heart, but mine alone

Another day has now passed, another week too

I have made your violative absence my muse

The words I have scribed have run and faded

The breath I exhaled now seem to have cost a few