Suicide Cheats Death

It was cold. Death's fingers Resting on my forehead. The nail Scraping, scraping, Skin scorching Of pain. "You want darkness Or heaven?" He cackled, losing grip On the nail Bludgeoning For blood. "Time's a wasting." The wind stopped blowing a long while ago. Death composed himself; Pulled the nail out 'Til the roused red Spouted out And the cold resurfaced. "You ain't scared. This suicide?" "Death. If only you knew, How much I craved For this to end." The frostbite quivered. Death removed The deadly weapon From the skin. "I'm a murderer. Not a liberator." Death. His charm tensed, As his tongue rid The blood stain from his white digit Forcing exit as a bitter belch, And a satiated grin Carved on his Phantom tint. "I'll be back when you have a purpose Eh? Ain't no joy for me when there's joy for you." And he will. Yes, he will wait. Patiently, Waiting To grace my blood With his twitching nail, Edging icily. For it will only take The whisper of a smile, A soundless breeze, To summon even the remnants Of his presence.