(Wrote this after reading the book "Man's Search For Meaning" by Vikotre Frankl. The way he talked about his wife and his conversation with her in his mind during his difficult days in the Concentration Camps, wherein he didn't even know if his wife was still alive in the next camp close to him. And he had no means to find out, so he kept her alive in his thoughts.)

In my darkest times,

Your presence in my past showed me the light;

Through my wounded nights,

Your thought slept by my side;

Our reminisce in my dreams,

Brought smile to me even in hard realms.

My sand color skin,

Been wrapped around the mortal being;

The number that I am identified by,

Among the similar dying body lines,

I wait for your call to tell you how I feel,

And know how you have been.

Thinking of the day if and when we may meet,

I endeavour to die less every day and stay on feet,

Hold on to my breath to not leave me.

And ask my heart to not deceive me.

I see the human count go down every day,

And the new faces join to be bald soon by every passing day.

Can foresee who next will find solace from this grave,

Then look at myself into the mirror,

Witnessing to soon be on the same bed that was emptied today.

But then I look at the dorm on the other side,

Where they took you, and think you must still be alive.

And today I saw a faint candle light and heard a familiar tone,

Coming from your camp seeking its way through the cold.

Realized its your birthday and couldn't hold my cry,

And I prayed looking at the grey sky;

Asked for less pain for you and give you hope that this time may fly by,

And to keep you alive for if we survive.