1 - 4. One dash four. 14. Fourteen. 2 weeks.
I was in the hospital for two weeks. Hooked up to a machine beeping to the rhythm of a heart escalating passed my chest, transcending the space in my heart, prying it's grubby fingers through the slits of my ribcage. Hair matted - not pretty in a bun but tangled, unwashed, greasy like an oil spill too clumpy too thick to clean up - eye bags puffy from lack of sleep. Baby, I was the undead's favorite bride. Forget beauty, my face was pallid sickness with cracking lips and swollen cheeks. Who needed outer beauty when their innards were rotting away?
The nurses came to take my blood pressure every hour; how could I explain to them that my heart was racing abnormally because my phone was silent. How could I tell them I was waiting for a boy with green eyes and sharp teeth to text me? Tell me, while I lay unable to think of water without feeling ill, did you think of me? Because it's not fair, not at all, that within the confines of these white walls my heart was on a mission to remind me all I could think of was you.
It's cruel. You fed me sugar lies and expected me to forget them while I coughed up the powdered sugar. Your lies suffocated me. I wonder if you suffocated me. Used your eyes to make me forget to breathe and then ripped my lungs when you knew I was already breathless. I let you in. I gave you a chance to make room in this hospital bed. I pulled the IV from my arm, bled through my gown, laid the best pillow on the mattress and offered you a lifeline.
Nurses be damned I wanted you here with me. Making me forget that you played my heart: trickled infatuation through my veins, touched blossom in flowers into my cells, electrified blindness into my critical heart. But wanting you was wanting to love a cure I didn't have. It was asking to be placed in the list for a lung transplant when there were no donors left. It was seeing my phone lay silent knowing you didn't know it had been fourteen days since you'd seen me.
And when you saw me next? You didn't utter a word. It was the sky falling, my heart monitor flatlining, it was seeing you were no healer no god. Just a boy. A boy who charmed a sick girl who wanted a messiah almost as badly as she wanted to walk on water.
I wanted to fly to you. You were the sun in every sky I held in my weary eyes. Forget the wings let me fall with the abandon of fallen feathers, paralyzed fear, bitter excitement, medicated tears. Let me be consumed by a sickness of wanting you. I planned to make myself a fixated fixture on your horizons.
You planned to bury me in my hospital bed, didn't you, baby?
dedicated to -VAGUE because you reminded me what it's like to feel like your dying from flying to close to the sun