The clock has stopped moving;
My skin has begun bruising.
I do not wish to live on,
but mother insists.
I have gotten used to her red eyes
and tear-stained cheeks.
Her body has begun giving out,
she is not taking care of herself.
She is far too busy watching,
far too busy waiting.
I am her priority,
although she should begin to let go.
I cannot stay this way.
Our eyes catch contact
all I can see is pain.
Her hand grazes my bare scalp
and she inhales a shaking breath,
"I love you, darling. Don't leave me just yet."

--amm