If there were to be a last wish before these weary bones turn to ash, it would be to hold your face on my palm, lift it up to mine and look one last time in those eyes I have never seen and believe for good that it was all worth it.
It would be to feel the nape of your neck with the last of my breath and to caress your brow with the last of my touch and with one more, push back the untamed locks and believe all this was not in vain.
It would be to breathe the last in your arms, free from hurt, free from pain, free from understanding and misunderstanding, free from all the fights, richer for all the warmth and gladly poor for all the words, sights and sounds ever on offer in this world.
It would be to lose the self and regain the other.
It would be to make all of this go away and make it all beautiful again.