The Best I Can Do

How can you help someone withering away?

“Why?” she murmurs so loudly
Funny that she still has silken lips
When they should be cracked and dry
Her lovely face has lost flesh until
All she has is those crimson eyes
Beads of red under translucent white
Those cheekbones bright with tears
I walk towards her and move
Her hair in front of her face
Soft cruelty, so one can imagine
Her beauty has not been erased