Death

Why did I finish with you?
Why will you finish me?
It's all so irrational.
You're the hardest to speak of and yet you define me.
I'm hurtling towards you at the speed of light.
Your embrace is inescapable;
and yet I mock you
defy you
deny you
and abjure any semblance of your presence.

Are you pale?
I pale before you.
Are you loud?
I make a great noise.
Are you quiet?
I'll keep perfectly still.
Are you dark and cold?
I'm warm, and you'll be the thief of that.
Will you come to me alone?
I surround myself with great hosts.

All I know about you for sure is that you don't have an understanding of funerals and that you like cats.
That isn't enough for a working relationship, surely.
I'll understand if you aren't pleased to see me.
I'm to understand that I've treated you poorly.

You've sheparded billions and yet I want you to treat me as special.
That's the ultimate folly behind this.
Our embrace needs to be special, our dalliance needs to move mountains.
Dare I hope that you're monogamous?
Wouldn't it break your heart a million, billion times over?

Wouldn't it break mine to have to leave you after the instant?
We kiss and I am snuffed out.
How could I deal with that?
Oblivion would be preferable.

Maybe that's the greatest of secrets.
After looking upon your face, we beg for our ends, and maybe whatever comes next is tolerable.
But how could you bear it?