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
"No"
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 breasts
My possibly cancerous breasts
My soon to be nonexistent breasts
My figure defining breasts
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

Is the end nigh?
I fear for you
I grieve
I cry

I worry you’re going to leave
And how I’m going to cope
You’re pallor is grey, you’re weary
And why I do not know

I wish I could make you better
But I don’t know where to start
I love you more than you know
You’re embedded in my heart

You’ve been here my whole life
I’ve never known a world without you
If this is it then give me strength
To be there and see you through

Watching you suffer this way
Tears me totally apart
I go for I can’t bear to stay
And watch you drift, depart

On tenterhooks we wait
For the outcome of your tests
I gave you the only gift I could
The return of the one you love best

Hoping together
You’ll find a way
To face what’s in store
And celebrate

The time you have left
For I fear it is little
Thus it is precious
Though weak and brittle

Make the most of it, please
Put your weapons down
Call a truce
The time is now.

I threw up all over the floor at Planned Parenthood
Waiting for this goddamn mammogram
This routine procedure
That could tell me whether or not I have cancer
Whether or not I have to cut off my cleavage
And find another source of sexuality
This routine procedure
That could casually change my life
And royally fuck me over
This routine procedure
That kept me up through the night
Tossing and turning and bawling my eyes out
This fucking routine procedure
That I've been waiting 20 minutes for
Surrounded by other women
Who are probably getting the exact same thing done
And they're totally fucking fine
Nobody else is retching like a retard
Because this is a routine procedure
And I have nothing to be worried about

It's a classy thing,
throwing a party.
Meeting people,
social drinking
and for god sake
don't forget the chatter!

Glasses clinging,
as shadows in the garden
move like hungry cats.
Smoke being puffed
which joins the clouds
and dance in the noses.

People often forget
who they really are,
their values
and their balance.
Their mind
jumping off the edge.

Yet, sometimes
another mind
has a deep blue pool
where you can dive.
The water cools you,
and makes you forget.

The danger of parties;
you no longer think clearly.
But even more dangerous;
if it remains that way.
And you won't know
what is to be true.

Until it hits you.
You were swimming
in a pool full of chlorine.
Giving you cancer all along.
And what you thought
was wrong.

Seeing her bald seemed pretty fascinating,
While he wondered if anyone would ever look that beautiful without hair.

What will it take.
What will it take for me to happy?

Demons crushing my hopes and dreams.

Cancer killing my lungs and cells.

Why is everything in my body dieing?

I’m. Dieing.

                        With love,
                             Kirsten

Who’s online this Friday night? I’m ready let’s play,
Y’all wanna squad? Take the towers for ourselves?
Let’s play all night, and maybe into Saturday,
We all know you don’t have a life,
Join my game, here’s a party invite...

Someone always has to be slow,
Hurry the fuck up and ready up!
Now that we're all in,
Where are we going to land?
Just pick a spot, you son of bitch,
Going Tilted! See y'all there!
Fuck that I'm going over here.
Who’s online this Friday Night? I’m ready let’s play.

There's nothing better than 1st place,
Sadly, none of us will ever get to first base,
Oh well I always have Fortnite on Friday nights.

Dark night
Flashing light
Piercing sound
You hit the ground
Old white room
Stench of doom
You were ill
Just lying still
Please don't go
Time moves so slow
5 hours pass
This can't last
I'm sick of white
Still, I hold on tight
Another hour
I won't shower
I won't even eat
I stay in my seat
It's now day
I know you're okay
I won't home back home
I won't go alone
I just can't sleep
Then a loud beep
I wait in the hall
A too loud noise
I keep my poise
She walks to me
Vision blurry, can't see
She starts to speak
My knees get weak
Running out
I try to doubt
I don't believe
You wouldn't leave
You are strong
They were wrong
Things they said
You aren't dead
I don't think
Just let it sink
I'm only numb
Because
Cancer won

can•cer
/kansər/   (noun)

1. The sudden gust that scatters and litters debris along the road that leads you home.  A large oak falls across the lanes and you have to choose between waiting for a miracle or taking frail hands to a dull axe, in an attempt to keep going. It rages; knocks down homes and sweeps up all remaining faith and hope that may have lived inside. In a blink of an eye, you will have lost everything.

2. The rip in your favorite pair of denim that frays at the hems, then slowly unravels thread by thread until a puddle of blue sits forgotten in the corner; it no longer serves a purpose. Not even a needle and patience can mend what was and I’m afraid it will make you into something you were never destined to be.

3.  A thief that robs blindly and without remorse; trespasses on moral grounds. A habitual pilfer who enters quietly and unbeknownst until everything has been slowly taken and you no longer belong to yourself. You can knock but I promise you, no one is home to answer.

It’s not helping.
Of course it’s not.

Treatments hurting me more then the cancer does.

Loseing my hair.
Becoming more pale.
This dam hospital drowning the life right from under me.

They say a few months.
Other doctors say a few years.
Who really knows.
I have lived my best life.

So if it’s your will, God take me.

                    With love,
                           Kirsten