A Flight With Death

A Flight with Death

A white satin tux.
And our old sheets.
Tattered,
and stuck to the wall.
Are all that surrounds Him.

I sit.
Still.
And shimmering.
Purple
in the light.
As He pins
each line
of a shattered parachute
through my skin.

He does not feel
the pain they give.
And I can no longer see
their scars.
As He holds my hair
back.
And drops us
over the edge.