I watch you shake,
Porcelain bones
And pale moon-glow skin
Kissed blue with the force of your grip.
With thin, thread-like fingers,
You fight to hold together.
Your shield of defense
Is oddly, a throat of openness
Against the onslaught of coughs, and desperate moments
Where you think it's your last
And there'll be nothing left,
Airways collapsed.
But finally, the dangers pass.
Breath returns in a quiet whiff,
Your grip slips--
--fatigue washing over, now adrenaline has left. 
I, 
Standing by,
Grasp your arms--so cold, so thin!
And help lower your back to the mattress again.
The rise and fall of your chest--
--consistent, yet problems still abreast--
--reminds me, too, to breathe, relax and rest.

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CRITIQUE. PLEASE.

Characters
Narrator
An unnamed young person (either male or female--it matters not) sharing a hospital room with "you," the other inhabitant. Has a different disease and mentality, preferring to die and succumb to his/her illness rather than go on living.

"You"/Audience
Another unnamed young person (male--sorry, ladies); the one who shares the room with the narrator. Has the more serious illness--an unnamed type that is attacking his lungs and respiratory system. Quite different from the narrator, has a passion for living.

updated Feb 7 by KrisseyCrystal