365 days to love, and i shall give you all of my days

i only have 365 days left to love, the doctor wailed; a year to give away the battered expanse of a soul who knows the end of their span, the grim reaper looms, there is no time to loan another's heart for a half hearted sense of fulfilment in search of life's meaning. i am about to die, and yet the only person id ever want to hold my still body is you, who has weathered my storms and watered my gardens, i was the hearth and you were the blazing fire, i was the moon and the stars and you were a brilliant night sky, endlessly timeless and eternal, your love was, and therefore i shall love you with the rest of my time, with the remnants of sand grains in my flesh-made hourglass, for only to you, i grant, the beauty of my final days.