Is it love if
it makes me sleepless
and thights my chest at moonlight?
Is it love if
it makes me fall on my knees
to set prayers like seeds
into a ground so hollow
that it burns my feet?
Is it love if
it makes me linger to her voice’s ripple
and replay and murmur her words
to carve them in my deepest soul?
Is it love if
it makes me so graetful
that life seems, for once
a gift I deserve?
(if it takes me ages to say goodbye?)