The Intimate Story of Didi and I

I decided to call her by a term of endearment, a sweet name - Didi. My friend, my confidant, Death. I do not remember how I reached this decision, but once done I found myself writing poetry to her, about her, around her, mentioning her... yes, her, feminine. And after a certain time I looked back and found out that I had written sufficient such poetry to fill a volume of its own, this one. Maybe it will feel less impressive than when you find these poems surrounded by other, in context, but for me it is a necessity and a request. Coming from Didi. Ok, Didi, you asked and I did, or rather do. Don't love you, Didi.

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