Dear Death,

She was not ready. Though, born with overcast under her eyes and frosted lips. Once, lotus petals in early spring. They have now cracked and begin to wilt. There was much more to speak of; rigor mortis sets in as they begin trying to find me. As this body was a vessel- I inch away from the scalpel.
We are unrequited lovers. I weaken them while, you sweep them off their feet. They're always infatuated with the scent of your cloak. But grow resentful towards the sterile scent of hospitals. She is your mistress now. You will take her, leave me with the ashes.

And I'll hold nothing, but they blame me for what you've done. You're the thief, I'm the devil's advocate for disease. I loathe yet, love you for all your ruthlessness. Teach me how to be that powerful. They've come so close to finding me and I must fade, but we'll meet again.

Cancer