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A collaborative and random poem with Rai-han

 Death, he said - the cloaked figure with hollow eyes,

with the scythe of ten feet tall...

Death whose hands he longed for in troubled times - an unlikely friend;

Death whom he welcomes like the cold winter breeze, that takes away sorrow, 

frosts his tears before they fall,

greet me, he said. Lead me home to her whom you have taken

and I shalt give thee the only thing I so possess. Take me, Death, and you shalt have your just reward...

I do not fear thee - I fear the silence of the room as my voice, the only voice, bounces of these walls. I fear

night for night cannot bring me sleep when my thoughts return to her

as her ghost haunts me; she is the ghost in the snow, her empty eyes calling me, her lips of deep red I have longed to touch, her pale skin glowed in the soulless night sky. Plunge thy scythe in my heart, so I too be as white as snow.

Death, he said, Take me Home.

And Death embraced him in his cold hands. There was only blackness as Death cradled him in his arms. The lone soul muttered in silence, I am home.

Author's Note

We were in a dark mood.