The tango with death is a compilation of memories that have become the decider of my departure.
To be or to be non-existent?
If everything before this moment matters or if this moment is all that really matters,
That if you are even considering death,
Are those moments even worth staying for?
“You are the ultimate decider”,death whispered in my ear with a smirk.
A swift dance, twirling and spinning in my room with him clutching on my pain, your sadness.
The splits you open in your arm becomes your euphoric relief but the smell of blood and metal call him closer. You’re inches away from touching and minutes away from kissing
It is an enticing moment with death as you start romanticizing your end.

So am I truly the ultimate decider anymore when logic starts to mumble away and death keeps replaying and taunting, foundling and seducing me to his grip by using my own hopelessness dread and loneliness against me?