PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I remember how my cousin looked when she was young,

long blonde hair, dazzling smile, short and plump.

Now she lies on a hospital bed, her smooth body swollen

with it's own fluids, the blood from her liver seeping

into the spaces between her organs, the IV drips

draining their contents to keep her alive. Her hair,

once her pride and joy, has been completely shaved off,

her scalp now bare as a newborns. Her son's well-loved

teddy bear, tucked under her arm, is a feeble attempt 

at giving her comfort she can no longer feel.

Her brother, Jojo (a hulking strongman, stoic, calm, and accepting),

stands by her bedside, openly crying, not caring who sees him

run his large calloused hand over her head, carefully

navigating the intubation lines. His glance at my entrance

is raw, full of pain and hurt and things unsaid that now,

can never be heard. His arms fold around my slender form

as he shakes with sobs that fall hotly onto my shoulder.

He leaves shortly after, and my slim hand falls onto her

water-logged one cautiously, as if a simple touch could cause 

her to burst open at the seams.

I didn't stay long.

I don't remember how I made it to my boyfriend's house.

I don't remember him taking off my shoes, or my jacket, or my glasses.

I do remember him pulling me into a hug, his fingers gently

carding through my short hair as we fell backward onto his bed,

His arms wrapped tightly around my shoulder as I

convulsed with grief. I remember his whispered

soothing sounds, and the blanket he wrapped us in

To keep the world away.