Fragments After Surgery


So here I am, fragile in white stockings,
a sketch of a time lord as the rain
sweeps down. You ask me
if I was dead. On the television,
a woman is searching for her son.
There is such darkness in the world.

You snuggle in ever so carefully,
the smell of your Thomas the Tank engine PJs.
All those beautiful young boys
dancing into the night,
now blood and sirens and unanswered texts.
Such hatred, such cruelty.

You paint me frozen in time and space,
magic flowers that give birth to baby dinosaurs.
You tell me you’re waiting and waiting
and waiting for me to get better.
I kiss your cheek. We are here, we are safe.
You tell me the Doctor will save Gallifrey.


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