I do not fear death,

but dying is hard.

So I wait,
unable to make it hurry;
as my soul withers
on the vine.

My body, frail,
aches into the night.
Cells coalesce tighter,
sending shivers up my spine.

My mind, timid,
unable to interrupt
the overbearing nights,
yielding the will to fight.

The shivers grow stronger,
dawn is so far away.
Hands like ice.
Body dry, brittle.

Summer clothes,
wrapped like a pauper.
Shoeless feet,
dangle in discomfort.

It is my fate.
My choice.
Penitence for a life
of opulence, greed.

My eyes close,
wishing to never open.
My body lay,
still like a corpse,
beneath me,
the concrete ice,
as my mind wanders,
darting to and fro,
destination unknown.

Oh save me, dawn.
Let your light shine on me;
let your warm blanket cover me.
Let me snuggle
under your arms.

I am tired.
Eyes heavy,
weighed by the burdens of my
the cloak of love

Dying is hard,
even when the mind wills,
and the soul yearns.

Note: As I have mentioned previously, this website will disappear at the end of January. It is highly unlikely it will be renewed. If you would like to save any blogs, you should do so beforehand. The only blogs I really care about are my poems.

(Mostly for my mother. I love you.)