Baby, you write me poems and they set butterflies free in my stomach.
All I want is to lie under the stars with you,
but instead I am alone in bed.
Awake.
Unable to sleep.
Nurses tell me to think of something positive and automatically,
your face comes before my tired eyes.
They give me my meds
and in my restless, medicated sleep I dream of you.
Baby, I am so angry that I’m stuck here.
I need you with me.

P.S Darling, the phone  # you gave me is not working & also… let’s see each other this weekend.