across her protruding cheekbones,
looking almost as if it would rip if she smiled.
But she won't.
I put my hand on hers,
more to comfort myself than to console her.
Her hand is dry, rough, cold.
Not even the warmth of my skin
could defrost her bony fingers.
She puts her head on my shoulder,
and I can feel her tears falling
onto my chest.
We sit in silence.
No words would ease her pain anyway.
But I burned to ask her why.
Why?
She was once so beautiful, so vibrant, so
full of life. All that is gone now,
flushed away along with today's vomit.
She smells like it now.
A putrid, overwhelming stench.
Her teeth were yellowing,
and her tongue, although a whitish pink,
sometimes revealed speckles of red from when
the blood from her eroding esophagus finally
made its way up to her mouth.
She sobs, and I pull her closer,
her sharp shoulder bone piercing even deeper
into me.
"Tomorrow will be better," I saw, and she nods-
even though we both know it isn't true.
No comments:
Post a Comment