for some, it frees them,
a craving,
it is given to them,
even when they reject it.
it's liberating, it's reassuring.
it's the end of suffering,
a moment of halt, yet
creates a ruckus.
that is for some.
i never thought death would greet her,
at least not this soon.
my heart told me to brace it,
it rids the torment, the pain.
but i've grown attached.
just as death grew an attachment to her.
i fought, for who i'm not yet ready to let go,
to dominate death, so it can detach itself.
my grip on her, was strong.
i wanted her to focus on me,
to not give death the attention it craves,
for it will too form a much stronger attachment.
i fought so hard.
for a second, your attention was on death,
i could hear it rejoice, knowing it has you.
death gloats itself, prideful for getting you.
but then i got you back.
i wanted to gloat, i wanted to rejoice
just as death was when it had you.
but seeing how sad and disappointed death was on losing you,
i didn't.
instead, i held you.
you were in my grasp, yet your eyes still on death,
i had your attention, but i could read your eyes.
i wasn't in it.
that's when i threw the white flag.
death has a unique taste. a very addictive taste.
you had a sip, and you wanted more.
i didn't try to fight death anymore,
death was not the bad person, but i was.
i kept you here for so long,
forced you to hold onto the pain.
you were gripping, for my sake,
but when i saw the grip marks,
i knew i had to let you go.
your last moment wasn't as grim as i thought,
it wasn't sad. it wasn't a ruckus.
it was peaceful, a beautiful sight.
you let go, as i let you go.
i hand over your hand, to death,
bid you farewell, and asked death to take care of you.

- kimin