I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge
and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught.
I really thought she was going to die before I could tell her that I was going to die, too.
It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care.
She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated.
But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue
and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us
and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died
so she would never know that I was going, too.
But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love.
I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed,
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