Death is a Companion

I have not seen death

Neither have I tasted of death’s own poison

But I have smelled death

I know how it smells like

Death smells like December

‘Deathy’ December

It smells like the fog that heralds the morn’

It clings tight like the dryness of the harmattan

Smelling like a gunshot to the heart

The smell of a slump and kaput

Oh the putrid smell of ‘passing to glory’

In a sleep not so peaceful.

Detty December is ‘deathy December’

Deathly with our losses

Painted red with our pain.

Death is a companion

That smells exactly like December

Alpha Tee™

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