Linger {poem}

The machine by your bed
bleeps to tell me
you are alive.

I would not know
any other way. 

You are not living.

You linger on and on,
neverendingly
in this place.

You were always
a free spirit. Nothing
could ever hold you
down. Until you became
tethered by machines
instead of love.

Your hand rests at your side.
If I held it, would you feel?
If I kissed your lips,
would you ever know?
If only one thing 

can ever reach you again,
let it be that you are still, 

and ever my love.

But this form
lying in your bed,
tubes and machinery
an extension of itself, 

this is not you, 

and it is not living.

It only lingers,
as does my heart,
every beat praying
that this machine
will break down
before I do.

Written by Alexa Reed