Words of a Dying Poet

Darling, these are my last words before the pen will
Run out of ink or before the paper runs out of space.
The words that will no longer stay motionless or still.
This is like taking my last breath and when you trace
Over the words you will feel the whole world come
To back to life. You will feel the air within your lungs
And you will feel the tears coming, making you numb.
Will the legacy continue to be written on our tongues?
Will you remember me? Or maybe you will recall me
From another lifetime… the woman sitting in the corner
At a café, searching for inspiration. When one might see
All of the darkness, she sees the light. She is a mourner
For the deadness that surrounds us. She is I, possessing
The words of a dying poet. She is always the top tier
When you mocked her because she was expressing
Herself. You will be sorry when you no longer hear
The voice that shaped your thoughts. You will no
Longer be thinking that she is no one special. Trust  
Me because she will be the lasting and lingering glow
After the party is over. She will still be in every gust
Of wind that blows your hair. She will be in every word
You try to copy. She is on the horizon as a flying bird.