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Dying to meet you

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comatose-comet

Published: Apr 7, 2014

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Literature Text

I courted Death
in a burnt out pub
with faulty lights and dirt-cheap drinks;
She had tarred fingers
which danced hypnotically
around her hazy smeared glass.
Word round town was that she had the
Kiss of death
and a tongue as sharp as a scythe,
it was a challenge I couldn’t resist.

I seduced Death
bought her a drink or two
and with rum burning my heart
I stroked her arm,
(coffin cold)
and licked my lips like a predator
(a lamb in wolf’s clothing)
and when she grinned back,
I realised which of us was really prey.

I danced with Death
in a dark alley,
in an abandoned warehouse,
a trashed motel room;
it was fast and heady and yet -
the night lasted a lifetime,
a constant navy blanket
over the landscape spinning by
outside the broken windows and above
as a vaulted ceiling hanging
over the crumbling brick walls
(it was carnal and primal but
the night could never last a lifetime)

I fell in love with Death
as dawn light spilled across the black canvas,
smearing her in yellow and pink.
I finally saw her clearly
and she was beautiful,
but she never came back for me -
however much I begged down the phone,
however much I drank and swore and cursed,
her kiss lingering faintly on my lips.

(and I’m still waiting for Death
so we can dance again
in a night that lasts a lifetime.)

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Featured in Groups

5/4/14
(what if Death wasn't a hooded man ghosting in and out all while lugging around a huge scythe?)
Edit: Featured here a-wakefield.deviantart.com/jou…