Fragments of A Faulty Memory

We would die  with smokes suffocating our lungs plastics choking our throats Or guns pointed to our heads grenades thrown to our windows  bombs aimed to our city We would die easier With our own  cyanides we swallow; Our ideas Our feelings Our expectations Our mistaken love We would die easier The animal living in this modern world we build Trying to crawl on top of the chain Yet we are the prey to ourselves In this noisy world with wars within our head Picture by Made Dian

First hug. He kept calling me by my name, waving his hand right in front of my face. Leading my gaze to meet his eyes. When my vision started to blur, he leaned forward. Why does he squeeze my body with his?  Last hug. He was walking away, his mind was wondering somewhere and his soul has left me yesterday. I felt the air is getting thin I could hardly breathe. So I made sure it was truly the last time. I called him by name and spreaded my arm around his chest. “Ey, what’s going on?” he asked me. I looked into his eyes and I was certain, It was time. It truly was. To let go.