Watched you in a coffin
Did I see you breathe just then?
Poked you so no one could see
I thought-If I saw you dead- well….
Even while you lay there-awfully quiet
I couldn’t be exactly sure-so I poked-
Your hands were warm when I touched you
Dead hands are supposed to be cold!!!
Waited through the night
Even now
So many days after they laid you under
I worry when a bomb goes off that something could happen to you
I have to remind myself that
Nothing can touch you now
Even in my dreams you are still alive
Walking the tight rope between sanity and whatever lies beyond
I continue to exist.

Sashikala Premawardhane

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