Malady, Oh Sweet Malady

Being sick to me, is
waking up due to that small subtle crease in the bed causing your back to ache soo much.
 When the smooth warmth of soft skin conceales the agony beneath it.
 When those watery eyes glow like stars under the slight light coming in from the crease  in the door.
 Weak and feeble hands searching for heat turn and twirl around the curvaceous body.
 Silent weeping and whining, as my mother walks in with a steamy aromatic bowl of soup.  
 The smell of cloves and simmering chicken broth quickly fill the small dysventillated kitchen.
 One dissolved tablet of Alka Seltzer, sizzles in my special mug, the one with the flowers. And relieved I gulp down the sweet nectar of science to relieve my pain.
 Being sick is a pain,  it's unbearably horrible! Those motherly sandwiches taste deceivingly different.
And those new headphones have no cure to my incessant headache. A few home remedies heal, and you just hope the condition won't avalanch into something severe. A few days pass and you feel a lot better,  slowly forgetting the momentarily horrible experience.  Until someone asks if everything is ok now. 
 
    December 2 ,2012
9:08 Pm Laying down in bed with a terrible fever.
 
 
This poem is about: 
Me

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