Breathing, jagged, unpredictable breaths
'Do not wait for me here*' you stammered.
You grasped my hand and slowly our pulses
melted together, in conjuncture.

As I, in disbelief, could have thought
any other thought but the radical
probability of your death
could take away all that has been
the object of our effort.

The possibility of dying has been inescapable,
but why now?
I lay there vulnerable in your presence,
my emotions overriding the serious facade
that I have been striving to show you
before we met.

If you have known the stern facade
you wouldn't have ever forgiven
the one that let you die.