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  • Writer's pictureBeth

You Are gone . . .

As I hold onto your hand and stare,

I swear I see you move;

I look around, watching all the grief,

unable to let go of your hand.

Everyone is crying,

everyone but me;

I can’t believe that you are . . . gone.

Please, just open your eyes

or squeeze my hand,

just one last time before I let you go.

I wait for you to wake up

and find myself nudging you . . .

don’t leave me so soon.

Did I do something

to make you make you mad?

I’m sorry! Sorry for everything!

Please come back now.

Oh no! They are coming for you,

to close the top and put you in a hole.

Quick! Wake up . . . Now! Now!

It’s going to be too late!

They want me to go . . .

but I just love you so much.

The top is closed and you are gone . . .

I can’t believe it.

Everyone is leaving,

leaving you all by yourself.

I find a chair in the corner;

don’t worry, I won’t leave you.

The room is empty except for you and me.

As I look at your closed casket,

I bury my head in my hands

And I cry until I hold no more tears.

Why did you leave me?

I’m not angry, it’s just that . . .

I Love You.

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