(no subject)

[tylik]

Perhaps even rigor mortis is a gift.
For those who have sat at the bedside
straining their ears to hear the last breath
only to realize that it is past
and there will be no other,
it comes on slowly, with the cool air.
We can not delay this change,
but if it always walks it does not run.

For you, death came stealthily,
and in the morning you were already gone.
Laying out your body, the familiar
met with the strange, the cool,
beneath my fingertips, as you never were in life.
A message from your body, to my body,
to that part of myself
my own thoughts could not reach.