Decay

Every shed tear washes away,
A verse
Off my body,
A poem
Which unbeknownst to you,
You have been writing.
With every tear washed verse
I become that much lesser;
Decaying away verse by verse
From the inside out.

I fear
I may never be complete-
Forever remain
An unfinished trope.
Though am yet,
Alive.
Alive enough to fill the aged inkwell
With every tear washed comatose verse.
Would you dip your nib in;
Would you then refill the voids
Left by the decaying verses;
Would you trust again
In your own verses to come together
And rise beyond a mere poem, into
An Ode, 
Humbly and gratefully singing
Of your brave beautiful heart.
Would you begin to
Believe again?

Would you....?