Ut Moreretur

When I die, bury me in the most beautiful place
you all have set your eyes on. Bury me there, in
the green fields of unending life, where flowers of
different colors sprouted from the fat earth, and
huge roots die and give birth.

When I die, do not send me through a carriage, but
carry me in your arms. Lift my lifeless body, and sway
your way into the burial place, dancing. Hold me,
embrace me; do not let go. I want to feel the warm.
I want to feel your skin. I want to feel life surging.

When I die, mourn on my pale body. Cry ’til your eyes
dry up like a desert. Scream, screech, rage; cry for my
death for a week, a month, a year, a lifetime, in hell, or
heaven. Cry over my dead body like I cry on the eyes of the
fierce sun. Cry. For the first time. Weep. Rage. Show me.

When I die, do not forget about me. Remember me; all of it,
even the smallest details of my dead body: my hairs, moles,
the scars, bruises, cuts, the earth that takes shelter under my
nails; remember them wisely. Think of me every night.
Preserve my memory like a painting in Louvre,
And—
When I die,
Kiss me.
I want to feel the warmth of your lips on my cold body.
I want them to leave red traces, trails of saliva, morning breaths.
Kiss me on my softest parts. Kiss my organs. My veins. My blood.
And finally, my lips. Swallow my soul.
Kiss me anywhere, but not on the forehead,
Because—
When I die,
I want to feel things, even in death. When I die,
I want to feel warm, drink it, dance with it, sing it;
for the first time. When I die, I want to be something
that I wasn’t and I haven’t had, when I was alive.

When I die, do not say goodbye, for when I die,
I want you all to die with me.

Joshmher M. Vosotros

Joshmher M. Vosotros is a second year literature student at Cebu Technological University — Main Campus. A campus journalist and a fan of a one pearl. He often thinks of dragons. 

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