#breastcancer
In the dim light of a room, shadows cling tight,
A girl faces her fate, Stage III breast cancer in sight.
With courage so soft, and grace in her eyes,
She endures each day as her life slowly dies.
Her beauty, unspoken, her spirit so bright,
Yet no one dared to love, no tender delight.
Men admired her grace, but their fear held them back,
Unable to see the love in her heart’s quiet track.
Then from nowhere, a stranger came near,
A man whose gaze was both kind and sincere.
He loved her fiercely, despite her cruel fate,
His love untouched by the shadows of hate.
Now, as the days drift away like sand in the breeze,
She sings a prayer, her heart begging please.
“God, grant me more time to cherish his grace,
To hold him close, to see his sweet face.”
“Let not my end come before I’ve seen,
More moments with him, where our love can convene.
For in his arms, I’ve found what’s true,
A love so deep, so pure, so new.”
With each note, her plea rises high,
A song of love, a soul’s desperate cry.
“Give me a few more days,” she pleads in pain,
“To be with him, to hold him again.”
Her voice falters, a whisper in the night,
A prayer of love, a final fight.
In the silence that follows, tears fall free,
For the love she cherishes and the life she longs to see.
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 5:18 PM UTC
I open the window
So I don’t suffocate
But the air doesn’t reach my lungs
As I try to count my breaths
Monday I came in to see you
For the last time.
The last time.
And I never said goodbye.
Wednesday I took a test.
Back at school and then went home.
I don’t remember anything
Beside the PSAT and the moment you were gone from me.
I remember it was 9.
Dad in the hall
Bedroom door opens
“I’m home”
(the last time I believe in miracles as delusion and hope burn all sense of reason).
Is she with you?
“Where’s Mom?”
“She’s Gone.”
Black. Repeat.
I remember how everything got worse from then.
It doesn’t get better
You get used to it.
You get used to cold,
Just the absence of heat.
You get used to the holes when they become a part of you.
I don’t remember forgetting.
Your face gets fuzzy.
I conjure up your voice but I lost your laugh.
I can’t hold on to everything that’s flying away from me
In a thousand different directions
And when someone asked me last week,
I can’t remember your favorite food,
It’s been viciously consumed by the hunger of time.
I remember the look on your dad’s face-
This is what I remember most-
The look as he stared at you
With silent tears
And the face of a man,
A veteran of war,
Who was never prepared for the devastation of life
As he is told his daughter will die.
She will die slowly.
And he can’t save her,
But he can watch
As the life drains out of her.
I gasp for air uncontrollably
Leaning my head out the window.
As I am stuck remembering
Memories block air from reaching my lungs.
Stuck on repeat
Spinning spinning spinning
And it’s been two years.
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 12:45 AM UTC
I still remember that day
I saw your smile gleam
and your long brown hair flow
in the warm Hawaiian breeze
The ocean pushed
those pretty shells to the shore.
I heard your sweet laughter
when you saw that little blue butterfly
land on my nose
I had never seen your beautiful,
big brown eyes
filled with so much
happiness
and wonder
I sat there just watching you,
dance in the glow
of the sunset
You leaned down
and whispered to me
“my love for you is never ending”
and I smiled
Suddenly,
this world went dark.
The warm breeze turned cold
and your eyes filled
with tears
It had taken over your body
and locked you inside.
It was a constant battle every day
but your smile kept growing bigger
and your faith never faded away
This thing had pulled out your hair
and wore you down.
I felt helpless as I watched you slowly
fade away…
All I could do was scream
“let go of her”
And one day,
it did.
Tears rolled down your cheeks
As you placed your ring on my finger
and whispered
“my love for you is never ending”
and I smiled
I watched as you drifted away
with that blue butterfly,
in the warm
Hawaiian breeze.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC
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 *******
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
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
I threw up all over the floor at Planned Parenthood
Waiting for this ******* 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 **** me over
This routine procedure
That kept me up through the night
Tossing and turning and bawling my eyes out
This ******* 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 ******* fine
Nobody else is retching like a ******
Because this is a routine procedure
And I have nothing to be worried about
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 1:20 PM UTC
Lumpy, bumpy, feeling rather jumpy.
Nodule? Cyst? What have I missed?
Kindness pouring from soothing eyes - ladies in purple who have seen it all, beckoning sirens though to the hall.
Consultant - God, Guru, Man, Father, Lover, Philanderer, Tooth Fairy, Assassin
He checks like a 15 year old boy, passionless, conscientious, circling
Is this ok?
Lump - Yes. Bump - Yes. Am I going to jump? - Yes
Off to see the coolest man in the hospital - the Ultrasound guy
But first back to sit in cornrows with the ladies who coyly all dressed like me.
Russian roulette - someone will be upset.
Mamm-o-gram - scans your ***** like ham.
Kindness of the operator who's careers advisor could never have predicted this.
And then up and off to be seen by James Dean
James Dean with a wand and gel and a screen
And a squint then a glint - it might just be ok....?
90% its benign - oh mine the benign, fine, tine-y lump
But we had better double check.... with this massive needle
Please Mrs D please don't wheedle
Eyes shut tight anaesthetic mirroring a mastectomy....is it still there?
Then back to see my crew
Of ladies old and not so, a sea of tight smiles and frightened eyes
90% it's benign
90% it's benign
90% it's benign
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
can you hear them calling?
calling, calling her name
they're waiting for her to come.
they don't know her name,
but are aware of her pain;
they've been through it all before.
dressed to the nines,
linked together in lines
supporting one another indefinitely.
their personalities screaming out loud.
a sense of togetherness surrounds
dulling that pain in your heart
but one thig's the same,
barely noticeable at first;
determination and courage represented
in that little pink ribbon and a race,
laughing together, right in fear's face.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
I will run for her,
she will never know,
win or lose, show
my emotions or deferred,
we are not kin or kindred,
we barely know, of the other,
she has a brother and a father,
and she has two mothers, at least,
step-sister let's say,
make that three moms, and scores of others,
friends, she is not alone to fight the disease,
no, it is not a charity event my run, it is out in the rain,
to wrestle with emotions,
small rogue waves on an ocean,
Of disgust, with me,
I don't F'ing know her, see?
She lives across the sea where she got
treatment for the first cancer battle,
because "we don't do that type here"
if that is not enough to rattle,
an above average brilliant, pianist,
like her, then I will still run,
because I am sick and I am tired, and sweat and tears
look the same when you run,
in the rain alone, for breast cancer.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
You are his will on earth
For in this blink of life we all live
Despite the denial of our own mortality
And an unknowing purpose before God
You have taught us how to give
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
I saw her daily, getting dressed up for the battle as she wore her armour and polished her swords.
She'd look at a warrior in the mirror and smile, despite all the battle scars which had become her identity.
The white flag had not danced with the wind yet she had already won.
Her name now shines bright in the pages of history.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC