Omen of death.

She keeps on saying that she is gonna die.
She is gonna bleed to death.
Her heart is failing.
All the things that scare me are chasing me into my nightmares.
All the images that I dreamt once are following me, even if I'm awake.
I'm trembling, shaking. And I'm cold, but that's not the reason. She is the reason.
Not believing that I love her. How could I not love her?
She is my mummy. My sick, skinny, weak mummy.
She is the one that taught me about music, cooking, fashion, sewing, health and books.
The one that taught me how to love myself.
The one I read to until she falls asleep. The one I can hug to feel safe, because I'm gonna be there whether she is alive or not. Squeezing her bony hands. I'm scared of my memories, I'm scared of not being there when she exhales her last breathe. I'm scared of not being able to remind her I love her above anything else.

And she keeps on fading.