We bought a house for you, baby
With your own room, baby
And we thought of everything to make you safe
Before we even made you, baby
I prayed for your health and your happiness
And to have brown eyes and dimples, baby
I caught you in my left hand,
before you were ready, baby
And the blood ran into the diamonds of my wedding ring
And we held you
And we cried together over you
For a very long time, baby
We didn't want to lose you
But
We buried you under the old walnut tree, baby
Before you could breathe your very first breath, baby
You were loved, baby
You were loved, baby
You are loved, baby
You will be so very missed, my baby

Today I'm thankful that I could be a part of a dying man’s last days. The greatest honor. That I could hug his wife. That I could make his transition with the least pain possible. That I got him on his last day on the unit. That I wrote him a letter yesterday, and his first words were to me this morning, “hey you wrote me a letter,” with tears in his eyes. That he specifically looked me in the eyes before he left the unit and reached for my hand. That I bonded with Dr. Young again over this and that we looked at each other when the patient left with tears welling up in our eyes….nodded… And walked opposite directions… And that we texted each other about mutual respect and thanks later this evening. It is an interesting thing to experience and to share. I don't know. Internal talk. What I jotted down just after he left the unit:

I've got your blood on my scrubs 

Sweet man
You are dying today
Sweet man
I've taken care of You
I somehow didn't want to say anything 
unless it was important today
Sweet man
I gave my days to you
Just a little of my life
And I'd give you more
If I could
Sweet man
I've got your blood on me
I'll smell you all day
And I'll wash you off of me
Tonight. 

But you will never be dead to me
Sweet man

You are dying today

I don't write anymore. I can't write the words small enough. quiet enough, few enough. i can't hide them away far enough. they're not plain enough. blunt single carbon carbon molecules when manifest, your name comes with it like an amoebic flourish of life but i need them to die Ive opened my mouth heart and all my being came out and it wasn't enough. The shame of every particle opened just to please you. not enough. now i want erasure, a spotless mind I loved you and I wasn't good enough for you. So, how am i supposed to ever speak again.