“Time of death 9:43am.”

I have been here for so long
I can no longer remember when I arrived.
Sitting by your bedside
I have cradled your withering hands
and stroked your dry cracked lips,
still laced with the love we shared.
Your skin is pale and decayed
and each day I watch as more of you fades away.

I watched
Helplessly
as doctors swarmed your room like buzzing bees
desperate for honey.
The stark white cage
that has held you too long
seems to run,
and I feel as though I am melting down these
blank white walls.
Like four empty canvas’s
begging to be painted.

Out came the paddles
as the nurses scrammed out of the way
“1...2...3...clear!”
I heard that phrase so many times.
Repeated over and over
the words were sharp
and determined,
like knifes
and they would cut at me
break my skin and I would
bleed.

But then I heard a new phrase
one that should have never been spoken.
The words wormed into my ears
and ate me from the inside out.
My tears dirty the floor
as my cheap drugstore mascara runs,
but none of that matters now.
We were supposed to grow old together.

The bees stop buzzing
and Time seems to stand still.
Loving you was my mission
now I am just skin and bone,
and in-between nothing is left.

“Time of death 9:43am.”