i hope she’s grateful i was there
i hope that i did right
and i hope that when she thinks of me,
she’s forgotten all i did wrong
and remembers that i was there
in the white-walled waiting room,
where she baptised my shirt with tears
with her slumped shoulder in my arms
while we grasped at all
it meant to lose.
when i sat and read with her family
though she didn’t expect me to stay,
how i stayed to hear her updates
and prayed they’d bring them hope.
i hope that she remembers
i was there,
and forgave the later when i
Writing is how I live immortal.