The nurse comes in to change the sheet.
My legs forget they once had feet.
The hallway hums. Machines reply.
They test the blood. They watch the sky.
I used to chase your hunger down,
would scold your cough, would fold your frown.
Now tubes and charts replace my touch.
The world moves on without too much.
I will not call to check your coat,
or write reminders that I wrote.
No “Take a break,” no “Stay inside,”
my worry’s done, it’s been untied.
This body folds in slow decay,
not sudden, sharp, just fades away.
The scans still glow behind my name.
They mark the loss, but not the blame.
I know I clung. I know I gave
too much of me you didn’t crave.
But soon you’ll rest from all I was…
just wind behind the closing doors.
Wind Behind The Closing Doors
© Copyright: Староминскаяя, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125070900261
Свидетельство о публикации №125070900261
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