With love, Death

What of her, a broken one.
So her table, pencil and soul.
With palpable weary
A sprightly turned into a ghost.

He never looked back at her,
She rose above. May be just
She could pen them in words.
An anthem for to feel less alone.

Pencil pierced sheet and another
And thump shuddered roaches from under
Still like corpse, she stared down the ground.
All I could do was watch from afar.

Death is not an embrace of life
Unless I be a new start from the cards.
But I can't let her choose now
Even when she's wise, I know.

_________________

Prompt 1: Start with  "If you wanted to set your life on fire there wasn't a better combination".
Or
Prompt 2: Death's pov