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At my own funeral,
I'm dressed,
No feelings I'm dead
But I still want your body..

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Ensanguined my soul,
When you invited
me on your cremation.

Inundated with fragranced,
yet vaporized tears.
Vandalized my inner peace ,
Pierced me in and out.

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And then suddenly I realised
That I knew her ...
A face that bore such a sweet smile
A face that was staring at me
In my room at mid-night
Oh boy!
This is the same girl that I had
Buried in my grave

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On this night as quiet as a funeral pyre I wish to fade away like ashes in the world so huge and lay unburnt like bones of the dead.

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Nobody came in the funeral.
The dreams were dead .

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After coming from his funeral , she checks the WhatsApp chats and founds his last message .

The heart sent was still beating .

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Old people at weddings always
poke me and say:
“You are next.”
So I started doing the same thing
to them at funerals.

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"I will die in Autumn in Kashmir"

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The crumbled thoughts of a suicidal person on the verge of jumping off a bridge, the howling sadness flooding a mourner's mind at a funeral and the harrowing failures that flashes through an athlete's mind after he has lost a major game could all be churned together to procure a feeling, a feeling so excruciatingly fatal, similar to the feeling that suffocates us after a chaotic breakup.

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