Today I feel heavy,
like stone
has overtaken my body,
like my emotions
are starting to get the better
of me,
like my beautiful,
                                joyful
               mask
is beginning to fall apart.

I've been accused of witchcraft
by others, you're not the first
as if there has to be something magical
otherwordly
about what I do to you..
because how could it be
simply
that I make you happy?

Death lives within these walls.
It seeped up through the attic rafters,
Settled down in the furthest recesses,
And it waited for me.

I know you, Death.
We become more familiar with each passing day.
You are the movement in my peripheral in an empty room;
The whisper in my ear originating from nowhere;
The hair on my arms and neck standing, unprovoked;
The unease slowly building within me.

The cat knows you, too.
I see her watching you as you move throughout the house,
Never turning her back to you.
She is protecting me.
Even when you call her name, she will not leave my side.
She arches her back in warning when you get too close -
Is she warning you to stay away?
Or warning me that you are approaching?

I sense you are getting stronger, Death.
I feel you when you slink up beside me and linger there -
But yesterday you touched me.
It froze me to my soul, and to the spot where I was standing.
Unable to move.
Unable to breathe.
Gripped by a terror I've never known before,
But understand I will know again.

My light is slowly fading into your darkness
And I feel helpless to stop it.
What do you want from me, Death?
And how far will you go to get it?