1.20

Your lips,

Turning darker, approaching a no moon night

Your eyes,

Digs deeper into the pillow that only held you till now, light

Your skin,

Pale, cold and bruised; dazed, dosed, dozed- harshly

Your hair,

Thin now, lesser but soft, still, since long

Your hand,

Rests on my hand, one last, calm

Your breath,

It stops- 

Can only hear the clock now.
I whisper, “Wake up.”

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