the day death took my words

death came slowly yet knowingly;
gliding through an open door and there i sat -
welcoming him.
his first hello - i tried to avoid
escaping through his phantom hands
like the letters that escaped me
like mazing the alphabet labyrinth and knowing of the string,
yet, at the same time - not at all knowing;
and he caught up - hello
and it was everything i feared and desired.
his second visit, he's nowhere to be found
but i saw him
i saw him in the empty canvas of white
i saw him in the blotches of ink
scribbled, scratched, striked
i saw him in the mocking vocabulary
i saw him grinning
at my strained eyes, hunched back, tear-stained cheeks
and surrender never felt easier.
death came with the rise of the sun - an early duty of reaping
reaping the words that have not bloomed
the words watered, nurtured yet poisoned in the infertile soil
and so to him, i conceded
a silent funeral - it was;
for the day death took my words.

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