The Last Sip

The chill hits my back and I know what's coming, 
Death sits next to me at the bar. 
Without saying anything, I know it's time for me to go. 
I turn the figure, stoic yet misty, 
and hold my gaze for a while. 
Surprising to me, I'm not met with hollow holes, 
instead dark eyes, glassy and firm, 
barreling into my irises. 

"Do I get to say goodbye?" 

I whisper, 
not pleading, just a question, 
and Death takes my hand. 

"You tell everyone what they need to know, 
every time you meet with them. 
Every message you've sent, 
every glance you've given, 
every touch you've shared.
Everyone already understands." 

This mercy is not beyond me and I nod my head, 
knowing this is my last sip, 
my last dance in this reality. 

"Will it be quick?"
I ask, this time, pleading, 

"Sweetheart, it's already done." 

This realization is sobering, 
where tears would start streaming, a numbness cools, 
as the skin fades away from Death's face. 
Alone in an empty room, 
with the bones of my maker, 
I only have myself to embrace. 
Regrets fill my throat of everything left unsaid, 
unwritten, 
untold, 
and the panic sets in. 
Breathing is fleeting, 
as there are no lungs to fill, 
and I start to evaporate into the ether. 
Crying out, I hope they can hear, 
everything I have ever felt, thought, or wished. 
But it's too late. 

The burst into stardust isn't flashy, 
as maybe once I had dreamed, 
instead it is a slow moving show with particles drifting into the air. 
Maybe I will come back as signs unexpected, 
pink cars, and songs randomly played, 
but for now I reach out to try to gather myself together in vain, 
knowing that this was always my true fate. 
Weaved into the universe my being scatters, 
the memories dim, the unknown becomes familiar, 
all because Death makes a pact with everyone once they arrive, 
and mine was next in line.