there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us
i,
too,
rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his
and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his
but he stood up
and left
and maybe he knew,
it was for the better.
it was the right option