Death is a woman

by deadjin

"You find yourself wanting. You find yourself thinking – that you're more afraid of losing her than her taking you." / (an IR poem, just 'cause)

Death is a woman.

She moves and dances around you,

Teasing you, making you wait;

Making your heart beat faster with each movement,

Because you know she'll touch you, but not just yet.

But when she does –

It feels like what you were meant to do:

To receive her touch,

To let her sear herself into your skin,

Into your brain, into your heart.

It's almost unfair,

Because you know she doesn't even think about it,

And you probably can never have the same effect.

But when she looks at you,

All dusky eyes and proud smile,

You forget.

You forget that when she breathes it hurts,

That when she moves, you stop,

That when she so much as blinks, you will always turn to look,

Like it's as easy as hearing your own heart beat.

But when she comes near,

And you feel her fingers graze your hand,

And her lips brush against yours,

And you let her take you

So easily with her midnight hair and moonlit skin,

That's when everything else

Disappears –

And when she disappears,

Even though everything seems to live

And everything suddenly is set right,

You find yourself wanting.

You find yourself thinking –

That you're more afraid of losing her

Than her taking you.

.

.

.

A/N: Alright, so I was bored. Whatever. And I was feeling lazy, too.

Anyway, this is my first poem that I even remotely liked. I wasn't even sure where it was going until a few lines later, when I made it fit the IR pairing to my liking.

This is going to be in ABWMIM, just because I like killing people. With feelings. Softly.

-ssul