1-3 In The Kitchen Of The Gods

one got lost along the way it seems,

Death said rather moodily over
his never steaming cup of hot cocoa,
looking at me picking my feathers clean,
with remnants from his lover's teeth,

did you have to eat him?

I could tell he wanted a cigarette,
the way his body not so lightly relaxed,
onto the edge of the kitchen counter,
while his eyes glowered and simmered,
judging me but  encouraging me,

I suppose not,

I said flexing my wings,
ringing the bells that shook with midnight hour,

but I got curious,

flashing him an adorable smile, picking up my mug,
swirling the contents into spirals and dreams,

I got curious. And there was this one other thing...

my voice trailed off, straining to hear the sounds of Gloria
coming from the mug, Death leaned in close, also listening,

they never seem to hit the high g, do they?
he whispered maliciously,

engulfing us in the growing chasm of his laughter,
the light wavered, the kitchen shifted slightly,
and I felt like I was falling, in a forever-beneath-me sense,
I had felt it before, once,
an all too familiar rush,
of his world rising up,

he smelled like you, sweetie,

I hummed, kissing him on the cheek,
tasting the burnt ash of his beard,
lingering on the after of his breath,

and you know I can't resist...

Death put his arms around my waist,

resist?

he said smiling with the slightest of awkward grins,
causing the bells to clang in my head,

while the violin started to play furiously
falling from his lips,

why would you want to?