Once you talked of dying, and my heart gave a heavy thump
As the blood drained momentarily from my face.
Death, yes, I can bear,
But not the thought of your eyes lonely in the white hell of hospital
As they bludgeon you with superficiality
And strip you of your essence,
Which is warmth, complaining, loving, needing and being needed.
I look down at your sleeping face, feel the heat of your body,
See your eyelids flicker, hear your deep breathing,
And know this is the way I want you to go.
Looking at my girlfriend sleeping years ago and not wanting her to ever die in hospital. I’ve worked in a hospital and patients are stripped down to a dehumanised number.