No Next Time
They tell me
I should have died last night
that death stood beside my bed,
cold fingers wrapped around my name.
But morning found me still breathing,
still trembling beneath the weight
of a life that no longer fits.
Now the unknown waits for me
like a forbidden lover
draped in shadow,
beautiful and terrifying,
whispering for me to come closer.
I stand at the edge,
afraid to leave what I know,
though what I know
has nearly buried me.
Perhaps this is not death calling,
but life jealous, impatient,
begging me to choose it
before there is no next time.