Piperlime

 I do not give a fuckkkkkkkk about my grades. I especially don’t give a fuck about some privileged MD’s fragile ego

You think you know what it’s like to look down on the person you love the most and see his eyes and mouth glued shut, patches of red and purple across his face from the pooling blood underneath his skin, his skin so cold but still so familiarly alive. You try to hold his hand like the hundreds of times before but his fingers are so stiff from rigor mortis you settle for just putting a finger or two on his palm. You want to touch all of his body but you can’t because he’s on a table and you’re not allowed to pull down the covering. And it takes all of you to not lay next to him and fall asleep together for the last time. Then when it’s finally time to go, you take what tiny amount of courage is surprisingly left and you walk away from him forever. You think you know until it’s your love dead on that table. I wish I never had to know

grief