Penned Hopes

it was that October morning
when it first smelled like autumn
leaves that once gathered around my feet
like children ushering me to play
but I nudged them
aside gently–
I have somewhere to be,
someone to be with.

My cracked, dry lips still felt
those chocolate-chip cookie crumbs,
the first thing I managed to eat
with hands that did not shiver
after I heard that it was done,
after all that heart clenching, teeth-chattering
unneeded
mourning.

You called me beautiful then;
I reminded you that
you were drugged,
probably couldn’t see straight, since
no one looks good under
hospital fluorescents, but you laughed
and called me beautiful again,
the last time for a long time.