Going, Going… Not Gone Yet
I sit across the room
As you lie on the couch
Watching the ball game.
I hear the wheezing in your breath
As the leaves rattle
Whipped by the chilling autumn wind.
It’s a dying time.
All autumn screams of death, of dying, of nonexistence.
’Til death do us part,
Forever and ever, amen,
Never to be sundered.
But the sickness part came too quickly.
As the days get shorter
And the nights get darker longer,
I can feel the heavy spectre
Of a long, shady figure
Stalking you.
Stronger meds here,
An extra dose there,
And a little less of you throughout.
You fade before my eyes,
And the search for the one I chose
Gets frantic as near abandonment
Begins to strangle me.
The end looms;
It may be five miles
Instead of five minutes,
But I can feel its coming ambush
Stronger than the storms
That herald the changing seasons.
The lasts are coming —
One last date,
One last dance,
One last physical union, sweet and passionate,
One last butt slap,
One last hug,
One last kiss.
I can’t outlast the pain in my heart;
I’m missing you,
And you’re not gone yet.
Your passing will usher you into a new joy,
But for me…
No words can express the exquisite searing pain
That I already feel,
And you’re not gone yet.
