One last dance đź’”
The room was quiet as a fading hymn,
Monitors whispering soft and dim,
And in the hush of that sterile light
You asked me for one last dance tonight.
Your fingers trembled inside my own,
Fragile as petals the wind has blown,
Tears in your eyes like fallen stars—
Braver than all my silent scars.
You said you felt the curtain near,
That death no longer brought you fear,
But leaving love was the hardest part,
The slow unthreading of your heart.
So I helped you stand on weakened feet,
Where heaven and hospital sheets would meet,
And held you close, bone-thin and small,
As if my arms could shield it all.
We swayed to a song no one else could hear,
A melody stitched from hope and fear,
Your head on my chest, your breath so light,
Like dusk surrendering to night.
“I don’t want to go,” you softly cried,
And every word in me died inside,
But still I smiled through the breaking seam,
And kissed your hair like a fragile dream.
We turned in circles slow and wide,
Though time itself had stepped aside,
And in your tears I saw the sea
That soon would carry you from me.
You whispered, “Hold me… don’t let go,”
As if love could bargain with what we know,
And so I held you—fierce and tight—
Fighting the dark with borrowed light.
Your heartbeat fluttered, thin and fast,
Like wings not meant to beat for long at last,
And then you asked for one more thing—
A final hug before taking wing.
I wrapped you up in all my days,
In every laugh and shared gaze,
And felt your body gently cease
Its quiet war and fall to peace.
Your tears dried warm against my skin,
Your breath grew still where it had been,
And in my arms, so soft, so slow,
You gave the ghost its cue to go.
No thunder cracked, no heavens tore—
Just silence deeper than before.
Your weight grew calm, your pain undone,
As if you’d stepped into the sun.
I stayed there long after you’d flown,
Dancing with love I’d never outgrown,
For though the world had said goodbye,
You left your heartbeat here in mine.
B