Enigma

You are not here to weep for me Not here to wipe off my saliva That has been dripping from side Of my mouth since the day I fell ill; You are not made for my love, I am like a bird fallen dead in a Mouldy corner of your backyard; I no more see dreams of your Happiness in the wilderness of Night and no more wish to come Closer to the essence of your skin; Don't call me by my name; I Have lost my name on the way To mortuary of my incipient soul; If you do really love me, fall ill With me, sleep by my side to The grave and give your kiss on My cheek bones when my body Begins to decay slowly by you; If you do really love me, take The smell of my rotting veins as Scent of thin tendrils of creepers We used to hang onto and sing Songs of love in your garden in rain; If you do really love me, call me In the wee hour of the morning, Standing on your balcony though You know I will not reach you ever.