Alive.

The edge dwells nearer,
As your heartrate slows.
The heart that was once beating,
Now sits empty in your chest.

You try to expel your breath,
Into the cold that surrounds you,
But nothing exhales from your forgotten lungs,
Somehow you still stand.

No blood flows,
Into your blue veins.
Your scattered dreams lay on the ground,
And being dead feels so alive.

Your body touches the sands of time,
And comes back from the brink.
Snow falls, but brings you no frost.
Rain hits your skin, but you feel no elation at its touch, no love.

Your lover kisses you,
A deep passion lays in the gesture,
But you can't feel it,
Just the blind elation of death coursing through your being.

Being alive was no comparison,
To being this ghost.
Because you don't have to feel, in this form,
You don't have to be hurt.