You murdered me with a sharp ice, 

and now by the laws of thermodynamics, I don’t have the murder weapon.  

I don’t have my alibis too. 

I went for a shimmering light…I went for a insolvent beer. 

From nowhere…from the nucleus of a cold fire you stabbed me, 

On my mystified shoulder. 

My dying soap…my ancient shower, 

all have the potentiality to be you, 

But you know, who the hell has ever died without even a pinch of a love. 

You were that sculpture who haven’t seen Van Gogh’s swirling insanity…

And darling, that alone could have taken me…but you went for the cold conclusion… 

My death had no humour in it. 

………………………………………………………………………

Painting: Google.