Visiting Hours

You didn't shake as much in the psych ward, possibly because of the medication. A cocktail of paxil, seroquel, lithium and sedatives. The white walls dimmed your pale complexion. The pink rosed paintings on the wall reflected the first bit of color returning to your peaked gaunt cheeks, and big sad eyes. You'd get so angry, trying to hold back cries...stressed from all the secrets of your condition that the uniforms and clipboards kept from you. We'd walk the circular hallway. My black work loafers and your socks circumfrencing the middle ground of sanity. We'd hold eachother in the corner, under the light wood safety rail. You, propped up against the wall. Me..pressed againt your chest. You'd envelope me with your long arms and whisper in my ear between your tears that this... couldn't last forever.