His soul exits the premises,

body stiff,

lying there motionless as

the prayers sent surround

it trying to reel him back in.

There's no telling

when he'll return.

Eyes burn,

tears flow,

"Sweetie, it's okay

to let go."

Heavy breathing,

machines beeping,

time is bleeding,

"Will he ever return?"

My optimism is running thin,

patience is not my friend,

we're already two months in

and he's still being fed

through a syringe.

"Is this punishment for all my sins?"

The melatonin won't work,

for two days I've been

in the same shirt,

death is such a flirt,

"You can't have him until

he's six feet beneath the earth."

His skin is pale,

he's a hollow shell,

a dry well,

trapped within himself.

While he's lying lifeless,

I'm the one

stuck in this eternal hell

forced to hide the pain

within myself and

put my feelings

on the shelf.

I really want to believe,

it puts my mind at ease,

but I don't want to grieve,

"Baby, please don't leave..."

—

11/25/22

9:55 PM

起きる時間