“Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me” —Emily Dickinson

No. I stopped to remove the
pebbles from my person you
see it’s been so long since I
stepped into the light I have
forgotten to shed my black
cloak black skin black everything.

I’m sorry if my immortality offends you.

There is so many of you
asking, wanting, something of
me, my mind tends to swim at
the bottom of Lethe.

No offense to you, it’s just
as Death you try to forget
how the coachman’s hand trembles
when your fingers grazes him
the way your eyes glance away

out of shame. I’m sure you don’t
mean to fold your body in
the corner clutching your
things a little too tight, it’s

just freedom doesn’t happen
often so when I shed all
insecurities I forget
how bizarre my presence
can be. None the less

I’m sorry if my immortality offends you

but this is nothing new. See,
you fear what you do not
comprehend and will never
take the time to ask: hey Death
do you need a friend?