Flip flops

Your mother eats her emotions in the first floor cafeteria

Just down this hallway and to the left

I collapse into the injured brown chair next to the bed

The heart monitor the only sound

 

Suddenly music escapes my lips

Not any song, but ours

Late mornings curled up on the couch

A blanket cocooned around each of us

 

Here we are at the crossroads that tears us apart

The stairs snarl at me with their teeth

Lunging to take my breath from the sweat-inducing climb

My chest tightens when I look at you

 

One path has now become two

The doors stare with beedy leers as I pass with

Wide eyes, plain beige burning into me

The hospital is cold, sterile against my flip flops

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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