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Laurel Leaves Jan 2018
It’s the way I feel you before you’re even here
the silent tremors that glide down my spine
as I quiet down
tighten my grip
and swallow
The desperate pleas I make with you each breath I take
on my knees
insisting that my life is worth more than
one simple mistake
retracing my week, trying to find when
I accidentally left the door open
and you snuck back in
pushing me back
driving manically
to the four am Emergency Room
blood stained floors
as you pull me from another
night of sleep
another day of work
another arm wrapped around my side
I won’t try to climb mountains anymore
just let me live until March 4th
The moments when the hospital room slows into relief
when the medicine finally kicks in
and the nurse looks me in the eyes as she
tries to tuck me back  into the
white light sheets
hoping that will make you slow down
wishing the warmth  would loosen your grip
she taps into my veins to catch a glimpse
at the way you dance around inside of me
clinging onto my lower back, poking your fingers
through every layer I have left
whispering into my ear as they ask me why
I was in the hospital again
Oh it was just a routine check-up
You pull me by the neck
force my eyes open
to stare hungrily through the glass you built around me
day in and day out observing
the pace the world moves in,
orbiting around me
on infinite time
on a clock that’s hand doesn't just land on
on moments between IV drips
on moments between
when you decide to pull me back into bed
when you decide to hold me down and cloud my head
for days
for weeks
for months
Flooding my mind with memories when I wasn’t filled with orange pills
when my insides weren’t leaking faster and faster
with each passing season
Kind of want to keep living
but you’ve promised to
stop giving me a reason.

— The End —