No More Need

Your ability to breathe
is a fragile thing;

I used to worry
that when you released one,
you would not have the strength
to catch another.

Now I know that time is soon,
and there is no more need
to worry about what will come,
because it has come.

Your hands are birds at your side,
fluttering against the restraints
they have put you in.

I watch you

because there is nothing else
for me to do.
I have loved you

for all of our strong lives

but now I continue to love you
long into our weakest days.

You fight

because it is all you know how to do,
and I see
the bone and sinew of you


as your body sheds
all that is unnecessary
in this, its final months,
whittled down to weeks
and days, and then
hours, and now,
at last,


In, and out…



and out…





















About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.