saying goodbye

loss of a pure love

red wine in a vintage-green glass
soggy leaves fill the days
and you descend further
and further
away from me.
I can see you working harder and harder
to breathe
and I hurt.
because I already miss you so.
I want to fill your days with something
meaningful.
but I don't even know what that means.
I'm barely scraping by as it is.


it's so bizarre
to watch you slowly dying
and leave for lunch,
where I laugh,
tell stories, step away,
come home, and love you.
plunged back into this reality
and cry.
do work and check on you asleep on the floor,
continue to weave in and out of
normal life
and wonder what else I should do to ease your passage,
to give value to the time you have left,
to realize that you have entirely no control over your
life
hours
minutes
activities
other than what i decide for you
and i feel the burden
of all the
lack
of all the things i didn’t do and haven't done.
I pour a drink and
turn on my show
or grab my book
Or....
Something, anything
So that I can sit.
And watch.
And notice you.
And notice you dying.
And wonder what
In the fuck
Should I be doing.
But I continue to sit.
Or Lie.
And cry.
And miss you, preemptively.
And I love you, I love you
I am selfish.
And I will wait too long to let you go.