The Ones That Did The Stealing: A Poetry Collection in English

There

We stood there.

I was sure that I could feel the ground crumbling under my feet. He knew that I was imagining things. Somebody said something and the other person replied, lighting the match that lay our secrets bare.

I continued to stare while a tang not unlike peppermint spurred me to long for something other than cursed earthly air.

The world was black and white; only the cold massaging gusts of wind seemed to care.

Surely, he heard my heart race against itself,

For why else did he lose his debonair?

Those grey eyes of his frowned and it all felt so unfair.

His arm lunged; I tried to steady myself but all to my despair.

I was falling and as I screamed out that four-letter word which never did do its name when I needed it, I looked up to see the one who had hastened my fare to—

He stood there.

I was falling into Death's lair and it was none of his affair.

I was falling into Death's lair and it was none of his affair!

I was falling into Death's lair—

When suddenly the world became as murky as the sea.

And at that moment

I ceased to be.