Come closer dear Death.

I'm here raw,  
bruise is open and lungs are sore.
eyes dilate like a bursting bomb,
as if fear itself fumigates,
combusting, flaring,
seeping inward
without vow
from fumes
to wounds.

I shall row to the ocean
of my regrets,
sulken, and grieving
of the times
wasted
into bins.

To the kisses
I ****** couldn't--
To the hugs
I've chosen not to--

May all be merry
when I'm gone.
and realize
how lone
you shouldn't
be.