My last breath will be poetic justice,
With poetry, I plan, finishing me off.
I will inhale all the letters you wrote me, exhaling them into words.

My last breath will be dramatic,
As dramatic as any Shakespearean play.
I will give new meanings to new words, created just for you.

My last breath will be music.
Each note wholed, halved and quartered. Then semi-toned.
Sung on the A’s, the E’s, and the I, O, U’s

My last breath will be a dance.
Not a dance of death, nor the Foxtrot, the Boogaloo, or the Running Man.
You will be held in my arms, ever-so tightly,
In a waltz.

My last breath will be with you,
holding me tight, saying words, singing songs.
Embraced, in a kiss.

My last breath, my love,
will be spent with you.

For the past two years, he has steadfastly remained at my side. I hope I did not offend when I told him he had come too late.


"I died many years ago, " I said playing with the handkerchief I held in my hand.


He looked at me, and put a smirk on his face, 


"Yes, I know.  I hear your silence.  I cannot ****, what is already dead."


"So why do you stay? "


"To keep you company."


Our silence, once again, returned.

My ears may never fall upon you again.
And for that, I want to create something that is lasting, perennial.
For you, my words have no beginnings,
and no endings.

They are timeless.

If I could, I would leave everything to you.
I gave you a song, I give you my words.
When I am gone, the words written about me, will be all about you, there will be no question.

Some days, I spell out your name, in ­my mind, over and over,
and over again, making each letter consonant with each vowel sound, open, never closed.
I close my eyes, hoping the letters you give me will never end.

A memory of me laying with you, locked in an embrace,
listening, like a ******, to your breath, each exhale becoming my inhale.
I mourn that you are not with me.

I see your picture.
I close my eyes, and frame your voice,
your deep, deep voice.
I close my eyes, never to open them again.
For you, my poem will never end.