The prognosis was terminal
it was over,
the end,
finis.
She had burned my life
My marriage my self worth.
But I had to see her again
just one time.
To climb the ice tower
of her lair.
crawl through the ashes
and mud of all that
was wrong with us.
Just to see her again
to see that sensual smile
those eyes like fire
to feel
her hair falling
on my bare skin.
As I submitted
my soul to her.
The reaper was waiting
at her doorway.
I wrestled his scythe
from his Skeleton hands
sending death away
for another day.
Stepping inside her room
the smell of brimstone
a harbinger
of the hell to be paid