just before jimmy died
his breathing was only
a habit-
his last addiction.
i whispered into his ear
"it's ok"
and i think i believed it.
i gasped in air with him
until the air stood still.
the moon that night was full and generous-
a quiet friend to keep us company
as we remembered.
i'm remembering now:
the heat rising from his body-
the way the color slipped away with his life-
the way he listened to my voice
from somewhere far away.
i told him where to turn
and he did not hesitate.
i wonder who will draw a map for me
to lead me away from my last breath?
i hope they know more than me.
This is just beautiful, Terri.
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