a perfect life

Alive.

Pissed off. Like waiting in line.

But that's perfect, too.

Mistakes. Mine. Theirs. Yours.

This isn't me.

This is me under duress.

Rendered down to a ghost.

You told me what happend.

Yes. No. Hand gestures. Words.

And the cryptic:

I Remember / I Forget

The same thing. Same value. Remembered. Forgotten.

Printed onto the page. No explanation.

I've become quite protective of you.

Don't scare him.

Don't tell him that.

Wait. He isn't ready.

I try so hard - not to say anything.

You trust me.

I trust you.

Then you undo all your tubes.

Yes -

I've been drinking a lot.

Because as it turns out - I'm really bad at this.

You made an ok sign - then pointed at me.

It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

But I didn't expect you to remember. I guess I was afraid to ask.

And I didn't expect to see it so clearly in my mind.

Ever.

I wasn't there for you.

Later we all sat around. Watching tv. Reading.

And someone asked if I had your car keys.

I said that I did.

And you wrote:

to my car
my heart
me

It happened at the hospital. On a pad of paper.

The lighting was bad. My outfit was bad.

The best, best, best thing that anyone has ever said to me ..

Then a doctor came in.

They always remark on how incredible it is that you're alive.

But it doesn't surprise you.

You knew that you'd be ok.

This hospital.

My happy hospital where you're alive.

Please bring me my shoes.

You want to get going.

I hate not giving you your shoes.

Your shoes. The only thing standing between you and the outside world.

So decent.

You would never consider leaving in just your socks..