As I sat by the edge
And stared down in wonder
I felt a hand upon my shoulder
A cold and familiar sight
It was Death, again by my side
She looked at me as always
With her usual smile
Even though, it had been a while
I took her hand in mine
For what felt like the hundredth time
She then asked of me,
"What is it now, my dear?
Is there something new you fear?"
A chuckle from my lips fell,
"Oh love, you know me so well"
She softly leaned against me
And lightly hummed in thought,
"I do, we used to talk a lot"
I remembered all my strife,
"Yes, before I got busy with life"
I saw her frown a bit
"I still think of you often"
At that her features softened,
"I know you do", she said
That she was glad went unsaid
She looked at me sweetly,
"I'm a patient woman"
And I was just a man,
I wouldn't live forever
"One day, we'll finally be together".
We smiled,
Both with love.
And me,
With hope.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 10:58 AM UTC
As I sat by the edge
And stared down in wonder
I felt a hand upon my shoulder
A cold and familiar sight
It was Death, again by my side
She looked at me as always
With her usual smile
Even though, it had been a while
I took her hand in mine
For what felt like the hundredth time
She then asked of me,
"What is it now, my dear?
Is there something new you fear?"
A chuckle from my lips fell,
"Oh love, you know me so well"
She softly leaned against me
And lightly hummed in thought,
"I do, we used to talk a lot"
I remembered all my strife,
"Yes, before I got busy with life"
I saw her frown a bit
"I still think of you often"
At that her features softened,
"I know you do", she said
That she was glad went unsaid
She looked at me sweetly,
"I'm a patient woman"
And I was just a man,
I wouldn't live forever
"One day, we'll finally be together".
We smiled,
Both with love.
And me,
With hope.
Back when I wrote this it had been a while since I had last thought of dying. I was busy, too distracted to really sit and think of how bad I really felt, but eventually I had some free time, and naturally my thoughts drifted to this. I wasn't really sad, nor desperate to die, just empty, and more than a little tired. I thought of Death wistfully, like one thinks of an old lover who you never quite stopped loving, one who deep inside you still hope to see again.
I don't relate this with suicide, it's not what I wanted at the time. I wanted to rest, I felt tired of living, and as such daydreamed of the day far in the future in which I could truly rest in peace.