Isn’t it funny
how we both grinned
at the prospect of imminent death -
as if to say,
fun as this life might have been,
bring it on:
I am ready for the next adventure.
Isn't it perverse
that the real reason behind my grin
is that we could be dying together -
as if I feared
that we may never experience romance,
ever again,
and dying with you
is the best ending I could hope for.
Isn't it absurd
that after all that angst
about death, adventure, and love -
all that we have
is the realisation that this,
like most of life,
is just chaos imagined in our heads
as the plane eases quietly into the tarmac.
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