i like to flirt with death.
in the late hours of the night, i tease him
tantalizingly slow to take his hand
instead only a touch here or a caress there
never enough to let him take me
but enough that i know he knows how i feel
i like to think he enjoys it,
the idea of the living willingly engaging with the infinite beyond,
the eternal emptiness of death
he doesn’t tell me i need to rush,
doesn’t try to take me
he watches as i long for him
always just out of reach
i spend my time consumed by thoughts of him
like a longing lover
i like to meet him in my dreams
i tell him it won’t be long
he tells me to take my time, that no matter how long, or how short it is
he will always be there, arms stretched out, death’s embrace
i know that he will welcome me, he will accept me, love me like i never was in life
and we will be happy, he and I,
as we dance under the starry night sky
bare feet brushing the blades of grass that cover my grave
the same one that no one will cry at, except for mabye the sky.
i will become one with the universe, return my atoms to where they once came
as i stop my childish flirting with death
and instead embrace him in whole