He slips through the door
just as it shuts with a whoosh.
She lay on the floor,
surrounded by a sweet, soft hush.

He lay his hand upon her resting head,
and the other on her still, peaceful chest.
He takes off his robe, covers her, lifts her into bed.
A saint, the savior, he takes the blessed.

His warm embrace, his soft kiss
relinquishes her body of pain.
Her chest heaves from his touch, his lips.
Her lock found a key setting her free of the chains.

Hand in hand they forge ahead.
He pulls and pushes her along.
“Be calm, wipe you tears, this is it,” he said.
“Yes, yes, you are that strong.

“Life is your sea of crashing waves,
it grabs hold and pulls you under.
My sweet, my darling, you are the sky, the saved.
My dear, I hold the answer, no need to wonder.
“Death is the road of all souls,
whether of sweet or shallow mind.
And Life, it creates, but it takes its toll
on the steady, the sturdy, the disinclined.

“So lean on me, I am your support.
I am your last chance to make amends.
Thank me later that your suffering was cut short.
Be calm, wipe your tears, this is it.
The End.”