When His Eyes Close

I smell bleach.
Disinfectant.
The stench of clean, of scrubbed floor.
Scrubbed tiles and memories.
My brother’s smile. Scrubbed away.

I feel sick.
My stomach in knots.
Watching him, pitying him.
Wondering what he really sees
When he disappears for days.

I hug my mother
And empathize
When the doctor repeats the stories
Of where my brother claims to be
When his eyes close.

I ache to believe
My brother’s tales.
Of another world, another plane.
Like this one, but not.
Better, where things aren’t confused.

I want to understand.
The days he’s awake
He assures me one day I will.
That he will take me with him.
And my questions will cease.

I say goodbye,
And as I turn to leave
His eyes open briefly.
And before the others can see it,
He winks.