In just a few short lines, the speaker describes a day that has worn them out and a night they hope will repair it. The poem sets up two images: morning as "a mouth" and night as "the doctor." A mouth suggests something that takes things in, speaks, or consumes, so the day seems hungry and demanding, something that has chewed the speaker up. Night, by contrast, is a gentle caregiver who comes "to lie with me."
The verbs that follow are quiet and tender: "ease my eyes," "heal this day." The speaker isn't asking for a grand cure, just relief from tiredness and whatever the day has left behind. The title, "Doctored," plays on the idea of being treated or mended, though it can also hint at being altered.
The mood is hushed, intimate, and a little vulnerable. There's weariness here, but also trust that darkness and sleep can soothe.