To choose a place to place your final wish.

Where death is a closer friend.
You touched the door to the other side.
The **** beckoned, like you didn’t expect.
Your shadows gave you the key.

It’s real. You know it better than most.
The most real the idea has ever been.
But you threw off the covers
and pulled the needles from your veins.
The visage came and went
like our copies in the days sun.

It burned a hole in the fabric of us
like a meteor in the heavens.

Skipping, dancing lines define
alive, as if that could suffice.
That bed made your last beat
something to strive to prolong.
A place to place your final wish.

Wish, kiss, miss, resist, persist.
Grieve, leave, heave.
Alive.