Hear You

I can hear you. Audio Awareness, I think they called it. They also told you that I may never wake up. I will wake up. Remember what I told you? I'm here to stay baby. Forever.

Your hand across my forehead, I know it's you because Mom's hands are warm. Your's are calm and cooling, like water puddling across my head.

You talk too, telling me nonsense about what your little rat of a dog has done lately, how he killed my prize flowers. I swear if you didn't love that little mutt to death, I'd get rid of it, Nathan. It's a prize git, and you named it to match. Chauncey. Please, don't name our children without me there to pass final judgement. I don't trust you.

They're doing it again. Discussing killing me. You're crying again, your tears on my skin, your lips against my cheek.

Days later, months later and I'm still here. Still trapped in this coma, droused in this forever sleepy state.

Not for long. You've agreed, given in.

You asked to do it. To be the one to click the switch and seperate us forever. You are saying our final goodbyes. You're saying them for me because I can't. This stupid coma has stopped me doing even that.

So, goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend.