die alone

it is the smell of coffee and vera lynn i think that stir her from her sleep. vera, with promises of sunny days and reunion... but a reunion of betrayal or of eternal love and loyalty? that is what we reassure. there is a morbid game of musical chairs in order to take turns of holding cold small hands with a weak weak weak pulse but we always knew she was a fighter. please, stop fighting this. i want to yell at the nurses saying, good morning, in the hallway out loud. to remind them, for some tired restless souls it is not a good morning. but i know they are doing their job. and we are doing ours, by sharing stories perhaps too loudly making her stir again from her snores. but she would rather us here, no doubt, than to die alone.