I wish to live while you can still love me,
while I can still hold you, while all that’s yours
lies on me. My love was once free, easy,
childish. I wish to live; take me to our
bed, our kisses, our heat; they will do no
good to me when I’m dead. I wish that you’d
love me now, since I’m healthy now. I know
enough to know. Death is misunderstood;
poor death has no place here, but death is all
that this world can give. I say that I wish
to live while you can still love me. My dear,
each day I feel cold and ill and so small
compared to your heat. Love me. It’s hellish
to count down all my passing days, months, years.