Stay

My first extended stay
Inside a hospital
Was with my wife,
Wherever she is now,

I on the filthy tile
In the bathroom stall
And staring through the ceiling,
Begging god with tears I never have
She'd be on the better side
Of the fifty-fifty chance
The surgeon grimly told me of.
We spent a Christmas there,
Thanksgiving,
Changing of the calendar.

I've not seen her in twenty years.

My second wife
A couple months after our divorce
Visited me on my second stay.
I'd shaved my head,
Remembering the lessons
Of my former partner.
They had stopped my heart for hours,
Like she did the night we met.
Recovery was perfect,
Painful.
I've a lengthy scar that fades with every season.

I haven't seen her in a decade.

I haven't stayed inside a hospital since.

- 6/12/26

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