The uneven rhythm of your pulse courses through my palm. A jagged scar on your fingertip resembles a rogue birthmark. Ageing chasms in your face seem smoother in your peaceful slumber. I caress them, careful not to bruise your fragile skin.
Fondling your coarse hair, I whisper hopeful syllables in your ear. You always close your eyes for a twinkling before saying something profound. How I wish that you answer me back now. One more time.
One twitch from your wrist and hope returns. A sign to let me know you heard me? You don’t talk, but at least you’re here. With flocking tears I recite the message from a get-well card from our son. It smells of tulip and interrupts the static with a merry tune. You and I gazed towards the stars a lifetime ago. Once.
Approaching quake of footsteps. A doctor enters the room and nods at me. I glimpse at the guardian angel you’re connected to since arrival. Our time has come to say farewell.
One last time.
Author Notes: Thanks for reading!
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United Kingdom • 45 years old