He took me with him

I removed my face mask as I entered the room

He knew he was sick, I knew he was dying

So I removed my face mask, so he might see me smile for him. 

He always loved the way my lips would rest like Cupid's bow

when he made me blush or told me a funny story. 

And now he lay there; so tired, confused at times. 

Asking me the date, about current events, or if I tried any new recipes. 

His appetite had diminished months ago, 

but I still brought him homemade pastries, all his favorite stews
and soft casseroles. 

He knew he was sick and
I hated feeling him dying in that lonely room, 

That clearinghouse for the nearly dead. 

I removed my face mask because his hearing was weakening

and it helped if he could see my lips moving when I spoke to him.

When I moved in closer he saw it in my eyes, 

he knew this would be the last visit 

I held him close and felt what was left of him

the 110 lbs that life hadn't managed to eat away. 

He was crisp like rice paper- He was just an envelope filled with bones.

And I cried for him, in his arms, I cried for both of us. 

And in his finale moments he comforted me. 

He sacrificed his remaining breathes to tell me it would all be alright

there in those final moments,
when his cloudy eyes went blank, I knew he was gone

and he had taken my heart with him