She is Death

oh the sweet taste that is the wine of age and flaw
like an aged sin within a vessel
be it wine of flesh
ah how she sips the chalice that belongs to time
how it fills her mouth and dances over her tongue like a melody
cold always cold and tastes of copper
she drinks deep
her pallid fingers furled and laced within the day
how they entwine like the leaves on the gate of the cemetery
her hair flows like a widows veil
the scent of earth and pine
lo she be your enemy
who lingers from birth and mocks you when you stumble
her mark is the moist aroma of decay that clings beneath her ears
like a sinister scented perfume
and her eyes sing departure
and her lips speak inevitable certainty
her gaunt elegant fingers adorned with the finest pearls
polished with regret and misunderstanding
the soles of her shoes are lined with stale roses
and her breath weeps the absence of ambition

her lilly gown
the color of alabaster  cascades like the moon light
upon ash...
she was there for your first breath,
oh how her lips pursed along with yours when you blew out your candles the very candles that mark your birth date
how sweet she tasted in the pastries
and in the smoke of your cigar
the very wine you sipped
how fragile she was when she loomed over you
as you fought on the table
under her knife
she waited like a faithful friend
she tastes of seasoned night and feted hopes
she is death