Many years ago,
I believed
death would be
a sweet reprieve;

That she was the lover
waiting for me
at the end of the lane.

I dreamed I would
no longer need to explain
in vain the pain
that invaded my brain,

and when I was wrapped in her arms
I would be safe from all harms.

With her cold clench and soft kiss
time for me would cease to exist
and I would dissolve into the mist
of being less than missed,
no longer noticed
in this miserable existence.

Sterile and disinfected
ready to be inspected
when my lover came to claim,

but I no longer deign
to daydream that darkly.
Death is not dressed so sharply.
Now it is more terror and barking
jaws snapping when I am napping
so, I awake in a start
with rapid beats from my frightened heart.

I used to be awed to the point of deafness
and though I finally express and confess this
I no longer long for or miss my mistress.

Death can take a number,
because for now I got this.