As but a distant stranger I was told,
death is someone to not invite into your home.
I’ve heard tales of his travels, as long as time itself
seen results of his paths, broken hearts on lonely shelves.
Yet I knew our paths would cross, for I’ve heard of his love
for lonely young girls whose eyes are focused above.

My good friend death, how he comes and goes,
visiting so often, although I’ve said no.
With each and every visit, moment we share,
I’ve learnt to understand him better, to listen with care.
For our hearts beat as one, from since I was born,
His mother is destiny, fate cannot be torn.

My sweet lover death, he walks with me,
always by my side, he promises to protect me.
The tears I’ve shed  are not because of him,
but others you say we don’t make a good team.
Little do they know the comfort I seek,
in death a lover so far from meek.

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