...

This morning I dreamt you had a fever
You came to see me, in a cold white morning
My room somehow felt all-white too, like a memory in a movie
You felt ill, but you were warm, and so fragile. Your body was light, like a child.
I held you on my bed and asked what you were doing here
I can’t remember your answer, but as usual, you try to joke and avoid the question
I breathe out my usual sigh, relenting, and lay you down on the bed
Then I leave to go downstairs, where I find my brother
We spoke, I don’t remember again
And I head back upstairs to hold you, bring you water, check your temperature-
But I wake up, and you are not there.