how it ends

you can see
that she is dying.
it's in
her eyes.
in the slouch of
her thin
body,
she takes in
little food,
her face
brightened
by mascara, her
wig
at a silver
tilt, like
an odd shaped
moon.
how soft her
voice is,
hardly heard
behind her teeth
which
show when she smiles
and asks
how are you.
when you take her
hand
you can feel
the whole
weight of
her being pulled
towards you,
the bones
in her back
are brittle sticks
as you press her
body
to your chest.
you can hear
the air
leaving, her
life nearly over.
her death about
to begin.