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Literature Text
They wither
And wilt
Under his indifferent touch.
They fear
They falter
They fall.
His gaze: frosted flame,
Grazing a path of decisive demise
Down the sides of necks
Of dames and men alike.
There, the visible pulse of life
Ebbing
With every beat.
But I?
I courted Death,
At my bedside,
And told him
Flippantly
And flirtatiously,
“Come back another day.”
Sending the
Pale,
Polite gentleman
Off
With a blown kiss and
A fond wave.
And he did glance back
And smile:
A quick, quizzical quirk
On the left side
Of his fine face, fingers
Twitching an uncertain farewell.
26 February 2014
And wilt
Under his indifferent touch.
They fear
They falter
They fall.
His gaze: frosted flame,
Grazing a path of decisive demise
Down the sides of necks
Of dames and men alike.
There, the visible pulse of life
Ebbing
With every beat.
But I?
I courted Death,
At my bedside,
And told him
Flippantly
And flirtatiously,
“Come back another day.”
Sending the
Pale,
Polite gentleman
Off
With a blown kiss and
A fond wave.
And he did glance back
And smile:
A quick, quizzical quirk
On the left side
Of his fine face, fingers
Twitching an uncertain farewell.
26 February 2014
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It's about a person who is terminally ill, but isn't afraid of death. Death is confused and enchanted, and every time death comes back for this person he changes his mind and leaves… It is an uncertain farewell.
He wants the person on the Other Side with him, but has too much of a soft spot to kill the person and cannot think of him/her as dead and lifeless.
He wants the person on the Other Side with him, but has too much of a soft spot to kill the person and cannot think of him/her as dead and lifeless.
© 2014 - 2024 SilentMelancholy27
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