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Donna Jun 18
The nurse was so kind
She made me feel so at ease , on
my first ******* day
I had my first mammogram today , because I’m now 50 I get one done once a year for free till I’m 70 :-))) its important to go and get a breast scan , can save your life ** ❤️ and the nurse was so lovely so kind and very respectful **
Bellissima May 13

The news came in blows–bashes
to the heart, a butcher
beating a pound of meat.

The doctor said it was your breast,
that sack of fat that hung
so peacefully along your torso.
That soft small pouch which carried a secret,
a coin purse hiding stolen money.

It was that round raisin spout
that oozed liquid love,
what had once nurtured life
only now, to take it away.


The chemo was cold,
naked branches
in the midst of winter.

The doctor said your hair would go,
that those sun brushed locks would fall,
an autumn tree flaking its leaves.

Your nurtured garden,
to be plucked and uprooted,
picking carrots, bare and bald.


The disease crept up– multiplied,
a bomb of ants
ravishing a crumb of bread.

The doctor said that it had spread
to the cauliflowerd bumps between your hips,
to the heart shaped tubes that cradled
the unwanted mass, a *******
born without a father.

It was an attack your womanhood,
the predator, a ghostly outline
that lingered faintly in the scan.


The surgery took hours–heartbeats,
the wife of a soldier
waiting to hear of survival.

The doctor said they cut you open,
scraped it out, a pumpkin
scooped and carved on Halloween night.
Your gooey insides probed and poked,
until the rest of it was gone.

He said they shut you with staples,
a spine–like trailed railroad track,
that the skin around turned yellow,
while you looked sore and dead.


The healing happened slowly,
an infected wound
spewing pus then scabbing over.

The doctor said that you were clear,
like fresh water, clean and pure.
He said your hair would start to grow,
spring up like tulips
from beneath your scalp.

and you smiled so warmly–
the sun had baked your mouth.
Not only had your body healed,
but your soul.
*n a k e d* branches
A *b a s t a r d* born without a father
Atoms scattered upon water, grass and ground.
Mother gathered the collection of atoms. Then ate them, drank them and inhaled them.

Specks of light interwoven to create my source code.
From warmth into the dark, my dream was cut too short.
It was cut much too short.

Where was her ******* to cry milk for me?
Where was her arms to embrace me?
I was supposed to have a long dream,
but it was cut too short!

You grabbed a hatchet to cut my dream,
Snuffed it out like a candle in the cold winter breeze.
I needed someone to guide me through my dream.
I needed you to guide me through my dream.
Through my dream, I would have found awake.
Now I sleep, never to awake.
Girard Tournesol Nov 2018
She is filled with smooth promises
Suggesting what might have beens yet to come
Languid and persuasive above the clouds
Sweet nothings whisper, "love is out there."
Jana Clay Oct 2018
She danced in the moonlight dazzle by the sun, she wanted her dreams to come true no matter what she was going through...
The Fire within kept her dancing even when she was burned, broken and weak the chemo only made her sleep... only to be told she can’t dance anymore they will have to take her ***** she felt naked on the dance floor... lost and alone in her zone her Fire Pink was completely gone!
As the sunset and the skies turned orange, red and Pink she asked God “ Please Take This Cancer Away From Me”!!!! Weaping with sorrow all she could think about was hair that was falling out everywhere..
Her last tear touched the ground as an Angel appears with Fire Pink in his hand , he reached through her solar plexus to light the Spark that was Dimmed. Fire Pink dances free now she touches those who are sleep.

By, Jana Maxwell Clay dedicated to my Auntie Danielle Denise Duckett
Justyn Huang Oct 2018
**** did she have small *******
but wow how I ****** them--
And Loved Her
And all of Her the more.
haha just a cute joke
Laura Aug 2018
The candle smells like pink hibiscus
And the flame bounces a bit
As the fan waves past
I play with his chest hair
Nuzzle into his side
"Will you leave me if I have cancer?"
I ask
He says
"I like to think I'm not that much of a cuck."
He says
He strokes my side
Kisses my forehead
The bright white light from the TV shines off my pasty back
"Guess what?"
He says
"I love you.
Even if you have cancer,
Even if you don't have cancer,
I love you."
My exposed chest shakes
As I forget how to breathe
He runs his fingers over my *******
My possibly cancerous *******
My soon to be nonexistent *******
My figure defining *******
That I love so much
That I'm petrified to even think about losing
He holds them
He holds me
A tear falls down my face
But he wipes it away before it can get anywhere
Before it can fall
On my possibly cancerous chest
Zero Nine Jun 2017
There is a fundamental hardness
In this body, strapped between my legs.
Feminine energies from within warp
The fragile bounds of reality around me.
But what right do I have with *****
To summon the mother, call myself woman?
Every right.

My peoples told a tale closer to people
Still with connection to the heavens,
Roles for everyone. Gods did not deny
Their existence over time like some do.
But I deny the gods and dogmas and
I'm disenfranchised from my tribe
As a ghost in the machine in the very
Heart of western Christianity's

I get hard. It's not a problem. I cup my
******* in silent reminder with the
Dimmest hope of finding love and family.
Just as my elders, I live and speak at fires
Now write it, too, through ill, darkness in day.
All of the time I put into trying not to die,
It fashions me.

It fashions me.

I write the same words over and over telling
Stories of sadness and anger to outcast strangers.
I traded the ease of violence for pixel and ink,
So please take the words,
Unburden me.
The End

As always, thank you all for reading, and for your continuous support through likes, loves, and shares.

I'll be taking a break from short form writing for a while to focus on developing my longer prose.

Take care of yourselves, you beautiful people. I'm sure I'll have something for you soon. Til then, you all keep writing

And I'll keep reading.

Much love,
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