hospital

if you had it your way,
all the blood on your shirt
would be anyone but hers.
don't slow down
as you drive.
saying, "baby, don't let go of my hand tonight."
and your tears, they won't hold;
they trickle down your face,
but you try to sound okay
for her.

the doctors take her
somewhere that's safer.
you know you can't save her from herself.
you seem out of breath, for light to repair
all the damage, damage she has done
to herself, to herself.