And when I looked at her, she smiled.
She was a perfect rose against the trampled landscape about me,
and, yet, she seemed unpure.
Maybe she was just a rose and nothing more.
Altogether, she was untouchable, like the moon
and unfathomable, like the stars.
To me she was my being,
my only state of life.
Toward the doorway she walked,
smiling her fuscia smile
and scamping in her heels to meet the world outside my room.
In those final seconds of life I lay motionless beneath my pride,
fighting my breath and forcing my arms to raise.
But she didn't see,
In my ear I could hear her souls tapping upon the cold steps.
Outward it fell as if it followed her out of my life.