"It's Okay."

☆~~~☆

     Cancer is a bitch. That's what you used to tell me every time I would get sick from my radiation, or fall asleep during our dates. You would hold my head up high and tell me how I would make it. Maybe if you had been right, we could of lived until we were eighty. It's funny to think of what everything could of been.

     I stuck with you every second of every day after I passed. I watched as the doctors reached out when you heard the news. I did nothing but stare as you tore out of the parking lot, and locked yourself from everyone. I laid next to you as you cried into bottle after bottles of our expensive liquor. Sometimes you would reach out for me, and even though I reached back, you felt nothing but my empty sheets.

     I would cry for you, watching days turn into months, and months into years. That beard I hated so much had grown, making a border around the square face I used to kiss every morning. Your eyes had a permanent dark hollow look, as if a part of you had died with me. The lips that would always turn into a grin was stuck in a deep grimace. I lay next to you, telling you stories that you can't hear, in hope of seeing your smile again.

     I followed with curiosity as you rolled into your shoes. I watched you shuffle down the stairs of our small patio. Your hair ruffled and curled on the edges. I was overcome with relief as you went into our favourite coffee shop. You even ordered my favourite. Your body slumped into our booth, as my usual cup sits across from you without a ripple. I try to reach over to wipe away the tears escaping your eyes, and as if there was some recognition you sigh deep and wipe them clear.

     A small girl, a cashier, asks if you're okay. Of course, you lie and tell her you're fine. The tears prove you to be a liar. She offers you a tissue which you hesitantly take, I wanted to tell you it was okay. When she sits with you, I realize this was it, the day I was fearing. But, finally it was time to go. As your smile finally returned, I took my leave. My work here was done, I'll be watching from above.

In another life, love.