can still remember.
The still air
The sterile linoleum
heart monitor keeping count
In tiny beeps.
were always a comfort.
Solace in the silence.
And I'd walk the hallways while you slept
in what seemed a clever, clean maze
Wondering past each room
The fear and sadness and apprehension each room attempted to hide
What was different was
Who was in it
The supplies that the room held,
Whether it was a heart monitor like yours
Or an IV
Or the food trays they brought you up until that last week
But I always found the biggest difference to be in
Who cared to visit.
first it was forced that I visit you.
I made myself go
It hurt so bad
But I went
We'd talk about the news
And how you felt
what you were missing on the television
(Your room only had basic cable)
at some point
I'd reach out and touch you
Your soft skin like paper beneath my fingers
Your bones so fragile
Your being so tiny
I can't remember who would cry first
I'd say it was you
But I believe it was probably me.
And after we'd
And I'd caressed your pale hair
Always so perfect, you'd make sure each time
That your hair was dried by your favourite nurse
The one that studied to be a stylist
Before she dropped out and became a nurse.
We'd fall asleep to daytime
And wake up in time to catch the evening news
And I'd be ushered out by the nurses to drive home
Vision burred by the tears.
There should be a law against that
There is for driving under the influence of alcohol
What about driving under the influence of a broken heart?
can't decide whether that day went fast or slow
The call at work
The rush to the hospital
Arriving at your room
Time stopping as I watched them fighting
The slow steady beeping
Of your room.
can almost pinpoint the moment you stole my heart
With your smile.
You were so radiant.
We met at the fair
I was the one in the dunking booth
You were with your boyfriend
You had terrible aim.
time you missed
And in the smile
I saw life itself.
You were Hope
And without you
morning I visited you
Though you couldn't speak
You hadn't for a week
The oxygen on your face
The IV in your arm
I told you of a new job I'd got
That'd pay enough to transfer you to that
Big, fancy hospital in New York.
I'd kissed your forehead goodbye
Told you I loved you
And on the way out
I swear you whispered it back.
We were a part
A part of a whole, together.
Now we're apart.
I miss you.
It should have been me.