The Wait

You don’t laugh anymore, I never see you smile.
Your face is pale, your eyes red.
You are getting thinner.
Your clothes hang off you,
balancing delicately on your visible shoulder blades.
You refuse to eat,
it makes you sick.
You count the pills every morning, swallow them
slowly, methodically.
You don’t go outside anymore, you
just stare though the glass, blankly.
Time has slowed and only exists
when it’s time to take the next pill.
You don’t get out of bed anymore, you can’t.
Your dependency makes you feel child-like.
You can only wait.
You don’t long for it
but it seems to be the only answer now.