The Eleventh Hour
A compassionate poem
You left me at my final breaths where I was the most thirsted,
I was about to confess I love you, even beyond death.
You left me when I wished your face would be the last, I’d recall in the life after eternal,
Not those thousands of pictures that captured the inevitable.
You left me when I desired your voice would be the last; I’d evacuate at the time of seizing soul,
Not the phone call while shedding all the tears on the sheets of the stretcher.
You left me when I craved your touch would be the last, I’d perceive in my bed of peace,
Not the polaroid that lingers and hallucinates that had once all again been real.
You left me when my heart would hammer its last whack; I’d praise God for letting us meet beloved after drenched years.
Sometimes we have to live without those we never thought of living.
Thanks for reading this poem.
