PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The smell of antiseptic assults

Any guest to step into your

Curtained chamber

The walls are white

And the hospital sheets

Are stained with the misery

Of many women

Within two prisons

One- the hospital walls, that inpenetrable fortress where you lay limp and hanging from feeding tubes and I.V. lines

Two- your mind, which tortures your body with the most potent of weapons....lies

There are photographs of your mother

All around

And flowers in every stage of life

Fill the room with a sickly stench

You are small

In an even smaller room

Yet your eyes

They still sparkle

When I arrive

You sit up to embrace me

And I can feel every tiny bone

We talk about the lives of others

But never of yours

What's to talk about

Not much has changed

In these two years

Of hospital visits

And your addiction

To the two miserable prisons

You call home