In the silent darkness, that blanketed the night,
Death held out a hand, and walked with you a while.
His folorn, somber air, cloaked with shadowed might,
was tainted with the falling tears, that stained his perfect smile.
He felt the tremors his cold touch, sent through fragile, pulsing blood,
and willed himself to let you go, as not to break your hallowed bones.
Still his frozen grip stayed firm, raw fingers burning the wilting bud,
as oh-so lightly Death began to tug, at the glimmer of the bond you'd known.
You laughed at one point, as Death tried to help you, and dizzily span you around,
just there, quietly in his arms, a cool thumb brushing back strands of hair.
He looked down at you, ash grey eyes wide with anguish, and sadly he frowned,
as he watched you and saw an intensity of light, an inspirational fire, a dying symphony, knowing he was not supposed to care.
In those moments Death thought, and relished in the warmth you gave,
a single tear rolled down his cheek, as you opened your mouth to speak.
He merely said nothing, and fiercely pulled you into a kiss, you believing he was brave,
Death drove the cool knife through your heart, and you crumpled to his feet.

The imagery is just brilliant and it kept me reading on.