Today Death Knocked On My Door

Today death knocked on my door, so I answered and said hello.

I invited him in and offered him a cup of herbal tea.

I told him to make himself at home while the water boiled.

While it seeped, we discussed my insecurities.

I tell him the person who I see in the mirror is not myself.

He tells me the mirror shows a backwards reflection.

I tell him about my ex.

He tells me my relationship with him is stronger.

I tell him he’s the best I’ve ever had as I look down on my scarred wrists.

Today, death knocked on my door. He asks me about my mother.

I tell him that she reassures my insecurities.

He tells me she’s the most honest person in my life.

He finishes his cup of tea while mine is untouched.

I tell him I prefer coffee.

He tells me he can see the bags under my two insignificant eyes.

He asks me if I’m ready.

I tell him I have to say goodbye as my watch ticks.

We sit in the silence as the seconds get shorter and shorter.

He tells me it’s time as the watch on my too skinny wrist ceases it’s incessant ticking.

Today, death knocked on my door. It’s been six years since we last talked.

I tell him through the locked door that I’m not ready.

He starts to bang loudly, so I stand up tall.

He walks to the picture window and stares in.

I raise up my right hand and give him the middle finger.

He raises his scythe; ready to attack.

I tell him he’s not the best I’ve ever had.

I tell him she’s my cup of tea.

The scars on my arms are faded. The frown on my face is now a smile. The ring on my finger is big and shiny.

Today, death knocked on my door. I tell him to come back in 90 years. I don’t need to say goodbye. I love who I see in the mirror. I worked hard for the bags under my eyes.

My angel holds my hand, fingers laced together.

Next year I’ll say "I do."

He won’t be back for a long time.

I’m a survivor.

Today death didn’t knock on my door and I’m still laying in bed.

Blankets surround me.

Our skin is warm together.

Our heartbeats are in sync.

A love story plays on the television.

Two cups of tea are on the bedside table.

Both are almost gone.

She’s the best I’ll ever have.

She’s the most I’ll ever want.

Today, we get married.

Tomorrow is forever.

Tomorrow belongs to us.

Today, death didn’t knock on my door, so I can live another day, another year, another month.

And you can, too.