Conjoined twins

Is it weird if i have started carrying

Deaths as memories?

If my idea of love is dysfunctional?

If i have stopped loving people

Thinking my time with them is too less

With them?

If I’m too scared of ghosts

That live inside me?

There’s a home

Made of stardust

That i keep looking for,

A gateway drug

That would save me from myself

I keep decorating things with

ice-caps for some reason

-struggling to keep them alive.

Only to see them burn faster than melt

I keep painting things with love

Only to see them oozing blood

My heart and body feel like conjoined twins

One is dead, but one is alive.