Comfort Me Poem by Maximus D. Redwood

It is lukewarm, the afterlife.
She is why.
I want Death's warm embrace to—
To take me to a place I truly belong.

Her home.

Death dances with me, holding me close and—
And her smile ignites my deceased soul.
She twirls me around with such grace and
She gazes at me with such care that—
That it is surprisingly comforting.
After living such a bitter life, it makes sense.
Does it really?

No.

But what even is sense anymore when—
When death herself is kissing my frigid lips
And leading me to her home?
When death is comforting?

Comfort me.