The Angel of Death

She's older than her years,
And has a halo for a bracelet.
Yet, she is an angel.
And she drives me to tears.
She may be a gift from Heaven
But she is no messenger of God.

Or perhaps she is.
And she's been sent to teach me
What it is to suffer.
Feel pain.
Feel anger.
Or to feel the constant breath
Of Death on the back of my neck:
And to know that that breath is hers,
The whisper of her "I love you",
Caressing my heart softly,
Before slipping a blade through its
Fragile walls.

And in a way, that makes it worse.

To know the person you love
More than all others
Loves you too.
And that neither one's love
Is enough.
That it doesn't change a single thing.

For she is the Angel of Death.
And she needs me.
But she needs me dead more than
She wants me alive.