Death Takes Two Sugars

Death knocked on the door
came inside without invitation
poured herself some tea
and asked for a story.

He laughed at all the right parts,
cried when I cried,
asked for more than she received
silently demanding.

It cried with me and laughed with me
sipping their tea and listening
she wondered what I didn’t do
then told me how idiotic I was.

He told me about the children
I could have had but didn’t
and the falls that lifted me up
with the loss of others.

The story of how I almost killed a girl
when she ran into the street
scared her to run into the arms of her father
and never ran into the street again.

The tale of the man who was meant for me
yet still didn’t want me
and that was not my fault but his
for his life went on a different path.

Death pushed in his chair and declared,
‘It’s time for you to go’
despite my tea’s warmth
and my story was not quite finished.

‘I’m not ready to go’
I bellowed and threw my cup
it shattered but did not crash
hot tea spilled yet did not stain.

‘That does not matter, it is time.’
One long hand stretched out
beckoning me forward
promises that could not be said.

‘Time for what?’
I asked, still I knew the answer
for when the tea spilled and didn’t stain
and the cup fell but did not break, I knew.

‘Time to die.’
I had no choice, I had to go
for I was dead long before
death came to visit.