Death is not a Lover

The nights are dark beyond darkness

and the days more gray than before.

His eyes are dead, white, and sightless,

as if looking for anything of a color.

If only my heart were made of stone.

We used to talk about death,

the slow darkness falling over everything.

Our only hope, for eternal nothingness,

our death, with a flake of obsidian.

But I can’t leave you, it’s meaningless.

I can’t do it alone.

I’m begging you.

He said, I have to go.

For the love of God,

death is not a lover.

Inspired by: Cormac Mccarthy's The Road