i look at your heart monitor then look at you.
beep. beep. beep.
you’re alive.
i look at your parents on the other side of the room. your mom has her head in her hands and your dad is talking to investigators outside.
beep.
i look at my mother. she’s reading a magazine and she looks up at me. she gives me a small smile in which i do not return. she must take notice and she mouths, “it’s okay.”
i look away and look at you again.
beep.
i wish life had a backspace. an undo button. a delete key. i hate seeing you like this.
a nurse comes in and checks your bandages later on and everything seems so monotonous and you’re hurt, and i’m crying.
things can never get easier.
beep. beep. beep.
but as long as you’re still here, things are better than ever.