As your breathing gets slower, I find a tempest of tears descend from my eyes.
I have no interest in loosing you, but yet I find that choice is no longer mine.
Nor has it ever been and never again might be.
So as I hold your hand to my heart, you slowly begin to slip from away.
Suddenly your breath becomes absent and death has called checkmate.
Copyright © 2014
Ashlie Pfeifer
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