The Dance of Life

I know your face like the back of my hand. 
And today, I was told that I only have 
a month left
to see your face. 

I think I understand it now. 
Life is a clock,
a clock with a clear beginning, 
but an uncertain end. 
The numbers will keep on changing. 
I think some people do hear the ticking,
but most
do not. 

I am stunned. 
How is it that life—
a painting of colorful beauty and bright love—
can end like this?
How is it that life
can give you something so full,
and yet take it all away so painfully? 

I feel guilty. 
Is that normal? 

I feel guilty that you’ve only had thirteen years with me. 
Is that selfish? 

I feel guilty that I get to stay here
when you’re slowly fading away. 
Is that what love is? 

Is this what life is?

Is it a simple dance, 
one with missteps
and wonderful twirls 
that make lights spin all around you,
one with moments when you feel like nothing—
nothing—
can shake the floor from your feet,
one with moments that make you feel like
your heart
is empty
and only beating in your chest
because that is what it was
designed
to do?