Finish Line

We all know it's your last day
And duck out when we can
To breath the air
Outside your room.
Death smells bad;
The flesh giving over in noxious inches.
We sit vigil as long as we can, after all we are wanted.
Making us witness to this withering
Is your last show of strength.
Who among us has ever told you no?
In all honesty, we can hardly tear ourselves away.
Something this horrible has got to be seen to be believed.
And then there is the love.
It sends us out to the lounge
When breathing you in becomes impossible,
And back to your fetid bedside
When easy oxygen
No longer works
Its simple appeal.