Translucence

Your face feels so soft
Against my hand tonight,
And though I say it oft,
I wish it weren’t so light.

How strange that I can see
through the freckles on your cheek,
And at the wall behind you,
Even that dirt spot too.

How odd that I can scan
The room behind your eyes,
And look past your hair, so tan
To the fan spinning in its own lies.

Why have you gone so pale?
You have become a figure of death.
Has this become a tragic tale?
It looks as if you have wept.

Have you finally expired,
And should I join,
So that I may retire
From this one-sided coin?