All He Has Left

When he falls asleep at night, shivering slightly even though he’s covered by the blanket, – so thick, so warm – I wonder if he knows I can see it. I see the fracturing, the broken synapses, and I wonder ever so minutely if he knows.

He murmurs your name every night and it breaks me, but I stay strong.

For him. For you.

I have to, after all, since I’m all he has left anymore.