Stuck Between Beeps of the Heart Machine

there’s a lump in my throat. a lump of all the problems i tried to swallow. to hide. There’s a pain in my stomache. the pain of all the problems i tried to swallow. There’s a shortness of breath- inside my lungs from the hidden lump, and the people surrounding closing in. there’s a murmur in my heart from all the things i do regret to have said, and not. there’s a hope in my head that sometime i’ll awake from this coma, to a warm white coat, who’ll tell me i’m better. the one who’ll shut off the heart machine, and give me their beat to help me along. but right now visiting time’s over, and all i have to talk to is the respirator.