I remember when I was with you
All the tiny orange bottles building up next to your bedside
crushed capsules making their way into your brain
Too many for me to count
But always at least three or four
You would stare into the ceiling
As your body became slack and your eyes glazed over
I would lay my steady fingers over your trembling ones
Praying that my presence was enough
And I remember when I left
I kept the obituaries stacked in my closet
Scared of what I would find
And even more terrified of what I couldn’t fix

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