Death is not lonely.

The immortal being never sleeps,

Never stops,

Never breathes.

Until Death met her.

Unlike Death,

the young human was petrifyingly mortal,

her life teetering on the edge.

Sometimes she would visit,

between the beats of her struggling heart,

never knowing

if this is the time she would stay.

It was like this that their friendship grew,

With snippets of

rumination and ponderings

shared in the arrhythmiatic spaces.

Both thankful for the other’s company,

It distracted Death

from the aimlessness of immortality

while

it distracted the girl

from the powerlessness of her mortality.

But at the end of each visit

they would abruptly be pulled apart.

The girl would be yanked back

into her mortal life,

Amid

cries of her name and the beeping of a defibrillator and glaring fluorescent lights

She would wake,

Both glad to be alive…

and sad to be alone.

Meanwhile Death was left

to monotonous dispatches,

guiding beings out of the living realm.

Only now Death wouldn’t be doing it until

the end of days.

Death would be doing it until the little girl came again.

And both would look forward to visiting their friend again.