My only word: No.
My only action: a slow shake of the head.
I stutter, I stumble
As the clichés ring in my brain:
“This can’t be happening…”
“It’s not fair! It’s not fair!”
“Please, you can’t leave me…”
You won’t leave me.
It begins as nothing; just a growl, sitting in my gut before it blossoms into a roar.
It tears its way through my chest, wisps of flame licking at my aching heart.
It boils—it bubbles—
Till at last it bursts into an inferno.
I can still save you. I can enter the blue box; pull the huge switch—
I can be good to you and feed you and read to you
And be the greatest friend you could’ve hoped for—I am not letting go—and
I can help I can help I can help I can help I can—
I can’t. You can’t. They can’t.
You are gone.
Nothing—I feel it.
The flame. Dead. My spirit. Almost.
I drift. Can’t think. The iron grip. It has me.
I’m. So. Numb.
And then it clears away. Melancholy steps in
Pulling me into her arms, letting me feel again.
And she speaks with your voice:
“I’m here, I’m here.”
I see it now: you’re an immortal,
Never yet forever here.
Staring down from above,
Or simply standing near.
I have the memories–
The Joy, the Sad—the Good, the Bad.
I clutch them till my knuckles are white—
I am never letting go—
And so you leave,
Trailing spring blossom scents as you depart.
Though you should not fear for me—while there’s still a touch of heaviness,
The worst of the beast, it is gone.