I’m lying here on the floor
Among ashes and feathers.
Frantic knocking on the door
Disturbs the silence of my quarters.

I can’t cry out or call your name
For fear that it will be too late.
You’re leaving me wrapped in myself
To face my unknown fate.

I want to reach up with my hand
But my hand won’t move an inch.
And my thoughts now feel like sand
Sifting through an ancient sea.

I hear the steps creek as you begin
Your slow descent.
You never heard what I had to say
And you’ll never know what you meant.

But I suppose that I find comfort
In the memories of your smile.
And ironically you don’t know
That I’ve been dying all the while.