Bad writing never hurt anyone… right?

by Eman

You were not alright, but I pretended not to see

the spots under your chin and that left bit

at the back of your head where you had no hair

your eyes were yellow and bruised and your cheeks were sunken

like my heart, every time i saw you

but i did not let myself look at the tubes coming out of your wrist

with the strange copper liquids, or hear the sharp breaths when you said







as your machines played a symphony of beeps in the background

your smile was skin stretched over broken teeth, feeble


you were feeble, weak and pretended not to see

my shaking hands suspended awkwardly between a handshake and a hug

my eyes darting across your broken body and settling on the clock on the wall

watching it vigorously as it went from 11:16 to 11:43

and you did not let yourself look at my red face or the pit stains spreading on my good blouse, or hear my hoarse voice croak


in quick response, like i was running out of time as your symphony crescendoed in the background,

because I was feeble, weak and pretended not to see

that you were not alright