After writing Death a love letter, I
sign in cursive, dotting the i’s with little hearts.

I curl up by the fireplace-
like a cat,
for an afternoon nap
of peaceful silence and
glimpses
of my fate.

Waking up a ghost,
with translucent eyes and
invisible fingertips
I am
Unseen to even the most
Observant.

My wish, granted.
Curious.
Tell me,
what does it mean
to be in love
with Death?