Fading

In the last that I breathe,
I will not perish,
for my very spirit
is my love for you,
which upon my end,
will be immortalised;
manifested in your own being,
where it does belong.

As I wither, my breath,
in harmony with your heartbeat,
will evanesce into yours.

The irony is my love for you
that makes so little of me
so my fading is its eternalisation,
as it finds sanctum in you.

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