First Edit: Dying Alone

[Richard]

First Edit:

Dying Alone

The thought of you dying alone
is killing me.
Like a terminal patient,
I suck in my breaths
defiantly.
I demand my lungs to move air,
my heart to pump;
I demand life.

If I could, I'd leave you behind
like a wounded soldier
abandoned on a battlefield.

But you remain,
pushing me along our path in life.
Some call this love,
while I just wait.

Original:

Dying Alone

The thought of dying first is killing me.
I know we searched and found our path, my wife,
like great detectives solve a mystery,
but clues won't guarantee an afterlife.

Some nights I cage these fears inside my mind,
yet I am trapped by knowing people die
at any time, and leave their love behind,
while in the earth what's left of them must lie.

So now the trail is lost or done; no light
will end a tunnel, nor begin this trip.
I'll curse my daily nap, too old to fight,
before the evening warms my lonely lip.

And when I think I've overcome my fears,
they'll make a grand escape; their tracks my tears.