Death put a promise ring on me
the day I was born
We have been intimately involved
ever since
making dates and imagining ways
death could take me out
moon-lit walks in ill-lit parks
late night drinks at local dives
hundreds of poems that do not rhyme
Death has proposed to me
nearly every single day
since he made himself known
Suggesting I take his hand
into my own
and as romantic as it seems
I keep saying
No
When we do marry
when we become one
a congregation of family and friends
will escort me down the aisle
and though they will not understand
what forever means
they will cry at our union
and be happy for me
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