Hospice

You were a slow drip IV              
pouring into        
discriminant             
pieces of me                
and I savored you                
in my veins                
at night                
tasting                
metallic                
like Toradol                
 
we laid there      
             
wearing grief,              
             
as tv played      
on the idle      
sleeve            
         
Ruffle        
       
only to show            
this life                
winding down                
to what it could have been                
and things look                
different              
now that you can                
finally see                
your own survival                
tied up into mine.