My Medicine Is You

Jan 27, 2026 - jawaab

I am a patient, and my cure is you alone.
I am not a patient taken to hospitals, nor one who sits before doctors. My illness is planted deep within the heart. No blood is drawn from me, yet tears flow constantly. My pain does not wound the body—it burns the heart and the soul.
There is no remedy for me except you.
A single word from you allows me to breathe, while your absence spreads through me like poison. When you smile at me, the pain eases; when you turn away, the illness grows stronger.
I am like someone holding medicine in his hands but unable to take it—because you are the medicine, and you have moved far from me. At night, I sleep with your memory; in the morning, I wake with the hope that one day you will finally feel me.
Everyone heals when they are cared for. My care is your voice, your presence, and your understanding. I ask for nothing more than to be seen by you as a patient in need—not as someone pretending to be strong.
If you ask me what I want from you—it is simple: to be the cure without which I continue to fall apart.
If you ask me what I fear—it is loving you more and more while you never truly know how much I am hurting.
I am a patient.
And my medicine… is you alone.
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