Love, Poetry

Too Late




those were the only sounds I could make out from the hallway

but it couldn’t be

could it?

 they said

things were fine on the phone

just moments ago;

the familiar faces assembled on me

watery eyes flushed visage

only one

had no tears nor colour

as stone cold as he laid;

but he is just asleep

isn’t he?

I held up his palm

a cold shiver down my spine

hot tears swelling;

wake up

I breathed

wake up

yet there he laid

still and serene

never so before;

it was just us

my body against his cold frame

 both hands on his placid face;

I love you

I love you even though I say I don’t

wake up and hear me say

I love you

I screamed

and tugged;

but it was too late

too late

 for him to ever hear

 the words she truly means.


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