The secret of dying

I wasn’t there to kiss you our last goodbye
Instead I strained my sorrow through Egyptian cotton
I waited through your severe breathing
I waited for you to come back to me; but you slept
Deeper than my comforter
Colder than the frigid February Michigan air.
I tried to hold on to the warmth of your skin
I cheated and pressed my hand to your chilly cheek
You have left the breathing life but not mine

I treasure the Bread you gave me
I will not break it with anyone but your honor