Will You Come???

That day—

when Death leans in to claim me,

and a cold wind kisses what was once my face—

My soul will not go gently.

It will tear itself from this fading flesh

and stand at the threshold, refusing to cross,

searching the crowd for one face only.

Yours.

Before they wrap me in white.

Before the pyre is built, before the flames climb hungry toward the sky.

Before my name becomes a memory whispered in prayers.

Or—

One breath before my chest forgets how to rise.

One moment before the light behind my eyes burns out.

One single, trembling second where I am still here,

still warm,

still yours.

Will you come?

Not for ritual. Not for mercy.

For me.

Just your hand upon mine—

not to say goodbye,

but to find me.

To call me home.

To press salvation into dying skin

with the weight of all the touches we never dared.

Let the fire wait.

Let the river wait.

Let heaven wait.

Just let you come.

One touch.

One touch, and my soul will break free

not because it must—

but because you held it,

and now it knows how to let go.

Will you come?

Before I am ash.

Before I am memory.

Before this body forgets

it once belonged to your love.

Will you come?