I saw my world turning in the sheets;
reflections of the now- IV needles, fluorescent
lights (flickering) and ill-bourne smells-compete
with essays in past recollections; fading
(chubby hands, wet kisses, sunshine
days and wrapped-tight hugs) childhoods.
The hours tick by with cracked
hands and stained numbers (my life)-
until I see the familiar faces intact,
though all traces of concern are gone
as if I haven’t loved them since birth
(earlier, even, as ultrasound heartbeats)
Forty-eight hours since they’ve last come-
TV sports absorb his mind, my boy;
she has a life to live (of vodka and rum).
I have so many words, yet none at all,
but my desires (my love) will be unrequited.
My time has come, and they have not.
With stiff white-collared nurses
and unfamiliar faces as my silent
witnesses (still alone), sleep immerses
with a whisper on my lips; lingering-
meant for faraway ears and
uninterested eyes- I sleep alone…
“I love you”