i found something written a while ago...

curled up on the couch.
unresponsive. fetal.
the caked on blood covered by one small plastic bandaid.
drool drips onto the sofa,
mingled with blood,
its origins unknown.
an empty green bottle of Imperial sherry
lies nearby,
kept company by 3 empty tall boys of beer
and a half dozen unopened ones.
a mobster movie plays quietly in the background.
Rogers. On Demand.

he can't sit up to greet us.
can't light his own cigarrette.
a pizza box is by the door.
he ordered it for us, and wings.
keeps asking if he paid me for the smokes,
for the eggs.
wants to buy us Tim Hortons,
pay for a cab ride home.
it is a bleak image. a painful one.
accompanied by the scent of urine and stale beer.
the immaculate apartment is in disarray.
the floor and the bathroom covered with smeared blood.

i love this man.
and i have to leave.
i can only come and go.
i have to ignore the plaintiff phone calls.
the manipulation that comes from loneliness.
the desperate struggle of survival.
a life spent fighting.
physical beatings and formidable determination.
terrified of confinement, of restraints.
too many dark days in the hole.
spent alone. solitary.

i need to take more risks.
i don't like this gloved existence.
he feels like a leper.
Hep C, the modern untouchables.
death lingers in the air.
not too close, but present.
a reminder.
no one wants to die alone.
no one wants to be dying alone.

the cigarette ash falls.
his eyes close again.
we say goodbye.
promise to come back Thursday.
to finish watching 'Young Guns.'
today he mentions the future.
today there were no threats of jumping off the balcony,
no demands for the keys to be returned.
maybe this means there is a glimmer of hope?
or the physical pain hasn't quite become unbearable.

i don't feel disgusted by the blood,
but i feel calloused to the cries.
this sense of his life and death hovers over me,
the corners of my eyes contain gentle tears.
brought out by music or silence.
he has lived his life alone. mostly.
i feel privileged to be a part of this ,
but its going to be really hard when he dies.
there are funny, happy stories too. but not today.
i hope we can still write them down.
i don't want him to die alone.
don't want him to be forgotten...