Poem #28: Most Anything

I held hands

with

Death

today.

He wasn't cold

or

<dark>

He was smiling

and inviting

and it felt like such a

<stark>

difference

between expectation and reality.

He embraced me

with

open arms

and

encouraged me to

<rest>

I felt like I was

finally seen

and though it was the

<best>

solution to my hurting -

a reprieve from

endless pain -

He offered me

a sleeping pill

while

standing in the rain.

His umbrella red,

the pill itself was black.

He encouraged me to

take it with some wine

to throw it back.

I had no fear

of what he proposed,

it seemed like a

fair trade -

for me to take His medicine

in exchange to fill His

grave.

You'd think with His

suggestions

the choice

could not be rougher -

But one will do

most anything

to be sure to not

suffer.

You may ask

how I've gotten here:

how my life is such a lie:

But I will do

most anything

to not have to

say goodbye.

The rain Death

saves me from

is made of my

own tears,

and before I drown

in what I've produced,

I'd like to go

before my

<fears>

take over

this persona -

of having it together ...

because if it weren't

for my old friend, Death,

I'd be miserable forever.