When the universe
Decides my soul is old enough
And reaches her twisted fingers
Into my crippled core
Plucking out the essence of me
Will she proudly mount it
Upon her wall, a treasured trophy
For all to admire her creation?
Or hide it ashamed
In a disheveled cardboard box
Beneath warped floorboards?
Whatever her choice
I will gladly endure
An eternity of payment
For a chance to feel your breath
Linger with mine.
© Shreyansh Shreshth

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