First Death Poem by Stephanie Boccia

His skin… So pale…
His hair… So thin…
His lips… So brittle…
His eyes… So shallow...
Yes. His eyes.
His eyes were no longer a part of this universe.
They were gone.
Carrying a layer of liquid upon their black circles of darkness.
Showing no fear, no emotion what so ever, but yet so vulnerable it was intoxicating.
Stripped.
They were stripped from the body that lay still, numb and fragile.
Stripped from the soul that departed just a mere second ago, set course for another adventure in a far away, uncharted land.
Stripped… From a man who just seconds ago, breathed his last breathe, spoke his last words, prayed his last prayer.
Gone.
Flat lines. They filled the air, stinging every soul who hunched over that mournful gurney.
Record the time.
Tell the family.
Clear the scene.
Clean the room.
Phone the morgue.
Discard the body.
He's gone…
Welcome in the new patient.