I should have sat with you, holding your hand,
until,
robbed of life, it turned cold.
Because now in my dreams,
I see you always,
your yellow broken body wrapped in a white sheet...
cold, pale, and alone.
And when I was 11 and sick
you stayed with me always,
sleeping on the linoleum floor on a makeshift bed.
And when I was 4 you would hold me in the mornings
because you never wanted another,
to feel as alone as you.
I should have sat with you, holding your hand,
until,
robbed of life, it turned cold.
Because now in my dreams,
I see you always,
and the irregular hear monitor goes on.