In and out,

your smile fades.

Loud then quiet,

your laugh chirps.

Stop and go,

your mind races.

Yes and no,

your fingers plead.

Through red lights,

your eyes dart.

Your smile is still fading,

your laugh too.

Your mind is slowing,

your fingers are quiet.

Your eyes,

are still.

Silence overtakes a dark living room.

The darkness is captivating.

The changes are,

sharp and painful.

Skin and bones are all I see.

Under thin blankets, you shake.

Under closed eyelids, you cry.

So,

I guess I’ll say goodbye.

Goodbye to your laugh,

goodbye to your quiet,

almost silent weep,

goodbye to your very punctuate eye rolls.

I’ll say I love you if I can,

but we both know I won’t be able to.

Because my last “I love you,”

my last squeeze of the hand,

means you’re really gone.

It means,

no more Christmas’ in your living room,

no more poetry lessons,

no more crooked smiles,

no more you.

You’ll really be gone.

And a part of me will be too.

Goodbye,

You know where to find me.