and the doctor asks me to come in, and I know something's wrong because he's crying, and everyone knows that doctors don't cry. he says "I'm sorry, we've done all we can, there's nothing left for us to do." and so I ask "how much time does she have?"
In the recovery room, I made a list of all the ways you're beautiful. It goes on and on, on and on, on and on...
That night I had a dream of an ascension to heaven. I had no delusions of permeance, but I did have a few things to say. I flung myself at the gates, and I cried, "you hide high up in the tower, deaf to those below! you plant these soiled seeds and you're surprised when it's all that you know! you walk the endless corridors, you climb those endless stairs, i hope those echoes haunt you, i hope you cry because there's no one there! she withers while you whittle, such struggle you'll never know, how can you claim such knowledge if you've never had to let such someone go? she was my silver lining, that child that you stole! my one and only chance, my temporary soul!"
Awakened by the beeping and my first smile in days; the I.V. drips, the days drag on.
