Death

The doors on the gloomy rooftop opened
out walked my pouting lover Death.
She brought with her a sullen look
which upon seeing sends stomachs
to sicknesses involuntary consent
Her eyes were red and swollen
tears fell on her exquisite heaving breast
I asked of the disdainful distress
that given her attention
allowed heaven a momentary rest
Her reply was softly spoken
beneath her sweet dulcet breath
Like the whisper of a butterfly
caught hopelessly in sticky spider net
she uttered the two simple words,
“You’re next”.


A wee bit of original poetry.
- Sublime