No More Suicidal Poetry! Poem by Delilah Miller

I am mortal and I have no ties to the immortal...
But as mortal,
I breath in death
at busy sidewalks,
smoky alleys
and speeding elevators.
So let me speak for death
because it and I are close.
I am endless in death, and death strengths in me.

So let me speak for it.
(we whisper to each other,
watching the television news)
Death swelled up its chest,
proud in its ancient hands,
and like death always says, said
'You are pretentious and empty! '

Angry, I accused death of jealousy and greed.
Death nodded to the familiar argument
(I think its knows our hearts by now) .
'I do not take anyone who does not have to die.'
stated Death, calmly.
Then it asked,
did I wanted to embrace it, kiss it?
I smiled as if it was my suitor.
'Why, at times, Death.'

The coffee spoon swirled around the cup,
once, then twice.
I reminded him 'At times'
(death is around less and less lately) .
Death smiled with victorious teeth,
'Then you are pretentious, thinking I am punishment.
Your brain functions for you to live!
And yet, it punishes you, saying I'd be better.
I don't come until I am called.'
My smile shattered; he was right!

I'm not going to relate it all,
because it was lengthy hours
death and I spent murmuring over coffee.
We laughed at suicidal poems
because humans don't know how live.
But I will tell you one thing.
Death set his forehead against mine
and spoke into my eyes.
It didn't blink as it explained
'I was molded in a blue, gold, red abyss.
And creation told me my purpose.
I am here so humans live, live deeply.
But you don't!
You paint me black, waiting for me.
Or I am covered in green grass.'

Then it promised to come someday
only when it could no longer live without me.
Only a nod could I manage,
remembering loved ones it had romanced.
But it grinned and looked away
and I knew it didn't want me
as much as I had wanted it once.