A merciful cry

I beg of you

Pleading

Just five more moments is all I ask

A solemn request for an ailing heart

I am not done

Creating

Expressing

Give me this life, a little more

You've humbled me, finding me in the act of such beseeching

I am not done

Had I been resolved in every sense, silence would've met my lips

I cry

I plead

I yell

May this not be a request that meets an omission

I have life left, don't I?

A moment more

Have the hearts that landed in my palm been disavowed?

Have the whispers of truths to my lover's soul meant nothing?

Has my mother's sacrifice fallen trite in the realm of a busy God?

Are these plausible to you?

Dare I say, a morsel of dust awaiting a gust of wind to be blown from your inconvenience?

A life, such as mine, must mean something to you.

In your silence, I sense the plea matters none. 

A resolute quietude that bludgeons my sentiment

If I can't have the rest of this life, what is left for me?

What is my portion?

Am I to simply let go?