Living dead

Someone can be my medicine,
And someone can be her's,
But why can't we be each other's?
Though it's probably meaningless,
The reason was haywire and mess,
Mess that seperated us,
Mess that led us from beauteous to distrust.
It's getting hard to hold on,
And harder to let go,
Wanted to show feelings
But then comes the big ego,
Hatred has it's small share,
Because love continually resides somewhere,
Still the dread is there,
So moving with lost air,
Though your essence can be felt,
While enhaling the breath,
Now these breath seems to melt,
And slowly life turning into a living death.