Beauty of black was color of your death

You are no more,

A fact, I knew,
After two years.

What should it mean
From the world of
No-time and No-measure?

Or
Am I here counted
As living?
Or at least
As not less.

Our acquaintance.
I thought I knew you,
The black beauty.

But I could not know
That the beauty of black
Was color of your death.

I could not know
Your knowledge
About me,
If you are no more,
Was white too….