When I’m exhausted I do the other kind of writing.  The kind that doesn’t need logic and purges emotion, hence:

Come to me, my death, my love.  Come in the night when the cool wind parts the draperies.  Come in the darkness as the dew settles coldly and turns to frost.  Come when the edges of the leaves crinkle from dryness, when green turns to yellow and the garden lies fallow with last fruit- last fruit that will never ripen.

Everything dies some day.

Come to me, my love, my passing.  Come to me and whisper words of harshest reprimand in tones that melt my heart.  Climb under the covers with skin that smells like burnt sugar and breath that smells of peppermint soap.  Come and hold me gently, like a brother would, brush the sweaty hair back from my forehead and place cool rags over my skin.  Sing the songs my grandmother sings, the songs that all are dark metaphors for children, songs to prepare us for that inevitable knowledge.

We are all capable of dying.

Climb in through the window with the broken screen.  Tiptoe past the monuments of broken toys and hectic evenings.  (Please ignore the dishes in the sink.)  Come into my room where the broken branches of lavender decorate the bureau.  Come and comfort me in the darkness, in the long nights broken by crying, in the inevitable tears of three o’clock and four and five- whisper to me.

Whisper to me that all is fleeting, all will pass, every day is a small marker in the passage of eternity.  Whisper to me of the time of leaving, of the days of winter where the ground grows cold and cracks and everything dies- everything dies, everything turns, everything is born anew.  Even I will be, some day, you whisper.  Ever you follow me in my thoughts, you haunt my minutae, you mock my pain.  And ever you comfort me when the wind grows cold, when the winter encroaches and I feel my soul withering.

Come to me, my love, my death.  Come and lay beside me, he who ends me.  Let me feel the cool softness of your hand in mine.  Let me feel the weight of your solidness.  Convince me you are real.  Send me dreams that walk and talk and teach me, send me songs that break me.  Remind me of my humanity, remind me of my frailty, humble me.

Come to me, my love my death.  In the softness of the night breeze, say my name.

Remind me I am born again.