Your green eyes blink

But stay closed

Locked windows.

No sunlight

From your smile.

You’ve stopped painting

The colors grow dull

Your breathing starts and stops.

I cup your heart in my hands

And cut myself on the broken glass.

So

I try.

I pick up your paintbrush.

Shakily, I paint

The first white line

In a sea of grey canvas.

I look at your face

Your eyes are closed, the shutters drawn.

I turn back to your painting.

I paint another line.

Stroke by stroke

My memory lines.

They intertwine

I stop.

I can’t breathe.

Too much for today.

I will come back.

I will finish this.

Tomorrow, again

Just for your emerald eyes

To let me in again.