The last time I saw you,
You were hooked up to many machines.
Your skin pale yellow,
Your eyes bloodshot and tired.

That cheerful smile I was so familiar with,
was now a frown.
That laughing mouth I was so used to hearing,
was now just silence.

I was with you during your final days.
Holding your fragile hands
and hoping you would speak to me,
though you were mute for days.

The last time I saw you,
You were lying in a red velvet casket.
Your face so wax-like and surreal.
You were smiling,
but only because your mouth was sewn that way.