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.
Copyright © Meghan Marshall | Year Posted 2007
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