Care

It brings great joy and relief to me
That you are well fed and more than bones again
I remember you the way I last saw you,
A pile of bones, with your hair falling out, and those dark, bland eyes that saw nothing as it was.
This sight remains with me.
Now I tend to mirror it.
Only I added my own touch of a heavy set of bags to accompany my ordinary brown eyes,
In contrast to your own abyss-like black ones

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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