I read a poem once about how death is just someone’s last breath. Before my first last breath I couldn’t agree more, but now that I’ve met Death I can’t say I’ve ever felt more alive. Death is beautiful.

Every time my heart fails me and it’s just the two of us my mind is completely relaxed and the sight of him makes my heart want to start again. And sadly it eventually does. I have small hopes that it will permanently stop in the real world so I can spend my dead days with his timeless beauty.

It’s safe to say our small laughter and great friendship has turned to love. At least that’s how I feel about him.

He wishes me to live a long life so I can achieve greater things; Although, I believe he just doesn’t feel I should be stuck down here with him for all eternity. But he’s greater than the rest of us.

The real world.

Maybe because he’s always existed and he knows how stupid humanity happens to be, is why he always looks so wise.

Sometimes his wise face is stupid. I haven’t met many men with a resting bitch face, but my first assumption of him was Kristen Stewart vibes. I’m not gonna lie, it’s hot, but sometimes stupid.

He teaches me things.

For example:

As I walk up to him and put on my most innocent face I ask, “Hey Death, have you ever had a sexual fantasy?”

WITH HIS STILL RESTING BITCH FACE- he says,

“I do tend to imagine some things but 3% of people on earth have none. In fact, 75% of women don’t even tend to orgasm.”

My face must look a certain way of wanting to laugh and being interested because he asks me what’s wrong.

I walk up to his seven foot frame and look up at him with a cheesy grin on my face as I wrap my arms around him, right above his hips. He looks down at me and you can see the slight tint of red on his pale cheeks. I’m proud to say I have enough power to erase his resting bitch face.

I just stare of him a few minutes before I get an idea.

I run my small hands up his long arms and state, “You know Death, with my condition I can’t have sex.” I pause and look at him, “But I do have fantasies” I attempt to hide the smugness in my smile about what I’m insinuating.

“Well you know Amara, if you feel you must then go ahead, but may I ask who with..?” He looks a little disturbed and disappointed when he looks away slightly.

“This guy named Death.” I roll my eyes and look to the side trying to hide my smile but I can feel his eyes burning holes in the side of my face so I look back up at him.

He has a huge grin on his face as he squats down a little and picks me up from the back of my thighs. I gasp and involuntarily wrap my legs around his torso getting butterflies.

My heart’s racing.

I’m getting horny, hot, mafia vibes from death as he looks at me like that.

Before I can even think another second, my back is up against a wall and his lips are on mine.

My hearts beating faster.

When did that wall get there?

He moves his lips to my neck and starts to slide down my black sweatpants with one hand and his other is making it up my shirt.

I didn’t even think I could hold myself up on my own.

I close my eyes as he kisses a spot behind my ear and when I open them again…..I’m in the hospital again.

Dammit. Fuck everyone.