dear death,

when my time arrives,

let it be quick.

i don’t want the suffering,

or the tears,

or the please don’t go’s.

i will already be terrified, saddened,

so take me gently,

caress my cheek,

hold my hand to the journey into afterlife

or tell me it will be okay if there is not one.

i have tried meeting you before,

but i never succeeded.

our time will come one day,

which i hope is in a very long time now.

thank you for not coming for me

when i was inducing myself

to a life (or lack there of) i was not prepared for.

i understand it is your job.

i understand you must do this.

but for me,

make it painless,

fearless,

gentle and calm.

let my loved ones cry,

though not in sorrow,

but in joy that i can live a better life in the great beyond.

no one ever asks you about the job,

so perhaps you could enlighten me on the trip?

i would love to know,

tell me your stories,

your guilt, or whatever it is you feel,

tell me everything.

i am your vessel when the fated day arrives,

fill my body accordingly

and, too, let my bedside roses die.