I met her, right outside the nine-year gates
with raggedy scraggle hair ropes
and misled eyes. I ran foolishly, the way a child would, straight
into her pother
black robes. She wrapped her presence around me.
Her absent face smiled down, impishly, at me
in old memories, perhaps?
I knew her!
Her face captured mine, she sucked
naivety, pore after pore bled dry!
She held on to my, now, advanced young spirit and
to his casket; to his
Before his lifeless image
ink-smeared my tender life, his
hollowness entombed it!
After that day,
The Reaper and I parted ways,
still her black robes never left.
I ate them at an empty table,
they walked me down a long, long aisle, silk tied,
for a replacement man.
They draped dark weight across my house plants,
Until one day, The Reaper appeared,
with a hand outstretched
to me. Her calculating movements told me
who! Not when, but who!
I ran foolishly, the way a scared betrothed would,
leaving my plants,
leaving my home,
leaving my LOVE,
to the borders of life, I ran,
back turned on The Repear’s
robes, though they never
turned on me.
those consistent black robes,
always carried consistent weight,
never dulling, fraying, or fleeing
just steady, unwavering