I have still not gotten used to the sound of your keyboard click
at 4 a.m.
I wake up to the glow of your computer screen.
(What a bright light — but what life it takes away)
Sometimes I forget the names of your freckles. At night (if you are with me) I have to meet them again
and say: I am the lips that graze you when you are asleep.
I have never seen your face without the purple under your eyes — bruises that never seem to h e a l
(You are a frame of a man propped up by caffeine and sugar-free drinks)
— and the pink of your skin will never like the teal of your scrubs.
(They were simply not made to marry).
Sometimes I would leave the house
and you would come back home
and when you leave the house
I would come back home.
How deeply I understand the moon and the sun. Always apart, but one cannot live without the other.
And I know
it is your duty take care of the sick and the
But when will you see that you are the patient
and it is you that needs to be saved?