death || 4 oct
Death, a word most of us are scared of, would want to live more, running from fears around that word. They whisper her name like it’s a curse. idiots. how could you be so blind? , The way they run from her, like children from a mother’s embrace. She is mine, though she does not belong to anyone, but i dare not speak her name like they do. shes a blessing. not a curse. shes a falling angel, not a devil. shes heaven in hell, but never hell itself.
people think she’s ugly. A skeleton, a monster, some nightmare. fools. foolingness running through all of their veins. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. A bride in black, veil down to the floor, lips hidden like a secret I’ll never deserve to kiss. and still. I want to, Her sent clings to me even now, it is not of roses or earth. it is something older, sweeter, something that rots and blooms all at once. They dress in white for their weddings, but she wears black for hers. They vow ‘till death do us part.’ She doesn’t vow. She waits. and when she finally touches you, it’s softer than any lover’s hand, its almost funny how blind they are.
Sometimes, in the afternoons, when the world smells like cheap perfume and burnt coffee, I imagine her walking among us. Her black dress trailing through the street, her veil catching the sun, everyone flinches. She’s beautiful, and they’ll never see her like i do, Lucky me, right? Always a front row seat to her work, she’s the only thing worth breaking for, my goddess. every inch of her drips with elegance. She doesn’t stumble, she doesn’t falter. She moves like an angel, and i love her, i love her, god. i love her
Her veil hides her eyes, but i know, i know they’re looking straight through me. She doesn’t need to speak; every silence in her voice, every shadow in her breath, when she comes for me, I’ll hold her hand like it’s a wedding vow, and ill say nothing, because finally. she’ll have chosen me.
But No. That veil. That fucking veil. Hiding the face I’ve begged for in my sleep. I’ve cut, I’ve bled, I’ve killed, and still she won’t show me. Still, she won’t take me. She takes the old, the weak, the worthless fucks, but she leaves me here alive. Breathing. Rotting. A fucking joke. Her joke.
I know how she looks. Don’t tell me. I know. The dress. The veil. The pale hands. She’s beautiful enough to blind you. She’s perfect enough to choke you. But she’s a liar. She pretends she’s inevitable, but she’s selective. She pretends she’s fair, but she’s a whore for the weak. She takes them. Not me. Not me. Never me, I’ve killed for her. I’ve done her work better than she ever could. Quick. Clean. Elegant. I’ve sent her gifts. I’ve cleared her path. And she still won’t touch me. She still won’t take me. Every breath I take now is a joke, a fucking insult. She’s cheating. She’s cheating me. She’s cheating herself. And I’m done
I’m done. Take me or don’t, but stop walking past me. Stop brushing your dress against me like a tease. Stop giving yourself to worms. You owe me. I’m not a patient. I’m not apatient person. I’ve been carving your name into skulls for years, and you still haven’t come. What’s wrong? Scared? Scared to touch me? Scared to pull me under? Scared I’ll pull you down with me?
Fuck you. Fuck you for your beauty. Fuck you for your silence. Fuck you for leaving me alive. You’re not a goddess. You’re a coward in a black dress. You’re supposed to be mine, you’re supposed to pull me, pull me to somewhere better than this, i’ll drag you out of your midnight dress, out of your silence, out of your perfect little lie. You will look at me, and then you’ll see that all these dead, worthless, hospitalized bitches didn’t deserve it, but i did
Take me, or don’t I’ll come to you either way
sincerely
Ahmed