I am the First Eve.

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
of my fate.

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

My wish, granted.
Tell me,
what does it mean
to have an affair
with Death?