People can never understand unless it's happened to them.
The world echoes this little fact in timeless reincarnations and stories that no longer show originality in it's likeness with us humans.
It's a simple comeback,
But difficult to feel the apathy of inexperience.
This feeling that has infected me as well.
And that apathy is unbearable.
I see his face so clearly.
It this how it should be..?
It pains me to see him in this shape.
Hospitals and ICUs.
Hasn't gotten better,
Wise-ass smile in permanent.
I wonder sometimes if you'll see I'm standing here only for you.
Gil.
What happened to us after that accident...?
I know we've used to argue and laugh.
But you no longer say anything.
Only grasp my hand and lean into the shoulder you've cried on numerous times.
Your eyes no longer shines as you'd just stare off wondering why things are the way they are.
Your clammy to the touch and your smell no longer remains.
I wait in rooms and listen to the pained silence that welcomes me.
IVs and lined beds.
"Matt, do you hate me?"
You know me better than that.
And as always,
"Why would I?"
You repeat this simple question from time to time as your sights were solely on the window.
What is that you fear?
Them times when we'd fight,
The names we'd throw and them poison filled spits in faces...
Threats.
We never meant any of it.
It was never meant to harm.
Or tear us to this.
Our fist wouldn't collide,
But our emotions would edge and ticker.
Bombed and bum bared.
I care about you.
Knowing clearly you understand my downfalls.
And I'd give my everything for your clarity.
This is only normal,
Right?
Don't you remember all them times we'd just sit and embrace this feeling of strength?
Or all them times we'd whisper sweet nothings in shells of ears.
Can't you hear them too?
I miss them moments you'd snuggle against my back and just lay in the aftermath of it all.
Can't you feel that?
These absents that's filled you with needles and white objects has taken that away hasn't it?
Is it all said and done?
Tell me something...
Anything.
Give me something to hold and think on.
Stand and rise to them rays of the sun,
And let go.
But you've seem to have forgotten.
I sweep them tinted gray bangs of yours while you rest what little you can.
And to be risen by gore filled dreams.
I'd never let you go,
Hoping you know that your in the present and not fading back to the past.
Maybe they were right...
And you need them pills that you'd spit and I'd hide.
Gilbert,
Am I fading from you?
Please don't distance away from what we are.
Or what was left of this thing...
Don't push me away from every pain or confusion you feel.
Your scaring me.
Please don't shrug me off and fear my embraces.
I'm losing you,
Stop slipping into these grease spotted blurs,
This catatonic state you show is breaking me down as with you.
Take ground and force field this fort we've made in your hospital sheets.
Reading the long ago stories we've wrote in bleached pages.
Just jog something and chain react.
It was sad when you've lost the little things about this relationship,
But when you lost chunks,
You can't even imagine the hole I felt when I collapsed on the floor.
The basic of our first date.
That time you met my family for dinner that Al ruined with his Xbox.
Or the time Ludwig started attacking Feli because of his lack of clothes.
Anything.
Can't even remember my birthday that you'd used to count down in months in advance.
I'd do anything to just keep you from losing all of these scrapbooked thoughts.
Feral and courser your becoming,
Can you even see me anymore?
Please hang on.
Them flowers that's sat here for months,
Change from blue to wilting browns,
Linger as you finally sat up today.
For once you stand up and walk close to the window.
Touching the glass with your weak fingertips.
Wanting the freedom to feel the breeze on your face.
The wheelchair unfolds as I motioned your shaky frame over to the seat,
Obliging to the offer like the day before.
But you peer up at me questionably,
Something isn't quite right.
But you shy away from me,
Looking unsure as your bloodshot eyes leave me.
Not muttering a word as I wheel you through the hallway,
Commenting on a few things that your brother asked me to inform you on Tuesday.
Knowing good and well that it'll pass you by.
When the garden is taken in view,
I can feel a storm rise in the clouds.
Just hanging on deeply to my breath.
It's been hard.
Very hard.
Them calls that I'd answer from your close friends would now ring soundless.
And the countless moments where I'd just burst out in public for some guidance.
All that stands for me is just the hospital's aid.
The therapy sessions become pricey and I'm running out of time.
I know indefensibly I will never be able to fix the pressure you feel.
Gil,
Your brother called me.
Telling that you can't recall what month it is.
This little journal I keep remains that of a pig's pin.
Some are written on napkins,
Others matted with varies from medication notes to Wikipedia research.
Anything to grasp the understanding of this condition.
I'm going nowhere with any of this.
I'm becoming accompanied with them peeks you'd steal as I'd sit with you.
Silently questioning why do I still stick around...
The other day,
You bewildered me when you started throwing punches out of nowhere.
The nurses held you down,
As you yelled how I was the person trying to kill you in your sleep.
When in reality,
I can only escape through sleeping pills.
I'd wake up and think it was all a dream.
But it'd all be crashing down as I'm flooded with the scars you gave me.
Becoming more prone lately.
But you'll never understand why they are there.
Nor will you.
This hospital is increasingly smaller with the endless trips I take.
This time,
I'm not alone in this.
Ludwig has smuggled Gilbird in his coat pocket.
Hopefully adding some light to this in someway.
But you struggle to keep on track.
It seems that what little you have left,
This bird gave some little clarity.
Wondering how long it'd last...
Slowly but surely,
That look appears back on your face. As if you wish to ask me something,
But regret the thought.
What is it that plays before your eyes...?
Am I just a 'hollowed shell' as you once told me before.
Is it that you just can't see me at all?
The communication between you and Germany are getting snipped off so clearly.
Reverting to a deprived mute as the weeks pass your sorrowed room.
283.
Clear as day,
I can remember it.
It was that bright morning of early April when I've passed by to tell you stories from earlier times when you stared through me,
Pensive to the words you hear this disembodied voice.
And strongly you mutter one simple word.
"Who...?"