Cancer

I see her lying on the bed.
Her eyes are filled with nothing...
maybe something.
But not hope.
No, not hope.
The calendar above her head
is filled with the same thing:
the letter 'x' lined up in consecutive order.
X, X, X...
Her days are numbered.
She knows she's counting down the final moments of her life.
But she doesn't fight.
No, she doesn't fight.
She deals with the pain the only way she can:
by living

in death.
-RH