the death of me

Death returned friendly and controlling pushed me into the black sand at dusk its foot on my forehead deciding what we would eat that night and 
not asking if I had any preferences

Death got home annoyed and careless as a brace of pheasants dangling in the frosted air it was good enough for them so it was good enough for me and 
Death did not offer me a blanket because they were not cold

Death came cheerful with unexpected fondness 
mixing just enough sugar water for me to drink and 
I lived on the memory of its sweetness long after the supplies ran out

Featured photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash.


In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.


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