Final Hour

In the final hour,
will you kiss my face?
Embrace me, loving me—
filling the empty spaces?

In the final hour,
will words flow freely—
from the beckoning of your
cancer just to hug me?

In the final hour,
when my lungs give way,
to the years of life in smoke,
in shallow breaths I would say

my heart is yours.
In the quiet moments,
and the nothing between,
I will always love you.

If the world shatters
across the floor,
I'll be waiting at the door.
My hands extended out in the final hour.

Feedback 1 Feedback 2