When I am Sick

When I am sick would you come visit me with fruits, Sit beside me to peel me clementines as I hear your rambling? Would you hold my hand in yours to ask me how I am feeling, Gently caress my face with your warmth As you tuck behind the hair falling on my face? Would you spare me a glance full of fondness before you leave And promise me you would return the next day? If you would, would you right now? For I am sick and dying, rotting from my insides Waiting for you to notice my withering away from your side.