Death's Kiss

I wait for the only looming possibility. We watch as what is ours fall apart gradually in its hands. Fading and thinning hair, weight of memories, toothless smiles, increasing wrinkles, weakened spirits, I wait, you wait, for the impending sign, death. Smelling of slightly misty rain, the breeze of innocence, we try to resist it, holding onto that wispy hair of mundane, until we have no more spark, and can only linger, for that is inevitable, death. Slightly cold and wet, memories slowly disappear, hair grows luxuriant and rich, wrinkles are unraveled out, and it all flourish under its hand, the hand of an undeniable presence, death. Memories disappear, pain, joy, sorrow, and life are all drained. We enjoy a moment's felicity, full of innocence and awe, youth's endowment and bane, as the world changes, becoming captivating once more, but only for a moment, a bittersweet moment. It swiftly dissipates into thin air, and we fall into a dark pocket of nihility, we crash into threads of an imminent, death. Into twilight and isolation, we can still think and hope, about that bittersweet flashback, but that moment's bliss became torture, because it could never be retained, held onto. The cost of a bittersweet memory, was longing and emptiness, as we ache for the past, vacant and drained reminders, and finally, accept the uncertain and certainty, death.