You have the option of ignoring the truth until that moment when the dead begins inserting messages inside your dreams*

Say it softly, whisper it gently
the words you ought to say
a sweet serenade
before my deathbed

I will listen to you
like any forgotten cadaver-
like one
of your forsaken lovers

I know no accuracy
as I lived with
and ambiguity,

but now,
you're standing before me
shedding beads of tears,
how do I know

that I'm not somebody's tomorrow
(I waited for so long)
like the paradise
I once wished we were into-

alive in a yesterday.

*from Four Pairs by Camille Norton and Lou Robinson

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