Kiss Of Certain Death Poem by Ted Sheridan

Oh my love
The hour is short and life slips from my swollen fingertips
Onto the floor
Cold and hard with revenge
Forsaken by the years
I will not be leaving a beautiful corpse
And since thou are the only love I ever knew
There are but a few things left
I request that you might bring to me
Some fresh flowers to cover the stench
Of my puss ridden remains
As they rot alive with the bacterial insults of my detractors
Thou might also bring two doubloons
Of either silver or gold
To pad my sunken dead eyes with the proper fare
That the ferryman doeth allow me passage
Across the river of sticks
Into the promised land of dreams
And should you stumble upon a bottle of my remaining rum
Fill but your own glass to the top and drink one last toast to me
As you send me on my way
With my lips still burning full of desire
From that one last fatal kiss