#cardiomyopathy
I am standing in the waiting room
of the Coronary Care Unit
and I am counting because numbers
are the only things feeling real to me today.
Ten steps from the door. Nine hours into the day.
Eight times I have already said ********* under my breath.
Room number seven. Six ways that a heart can step out of rhythm.
Five people in a family that might soon be reduced to four.
Three cardiologists that cannot tell me what the hell has happened.
Rumor has it that two of those six arrhythmias are fatal. You have had one.
One door separating me from one person
laying in one room with one ventricle
that does not, will not, and cannot
pump.
We all carry someone inside of us—
someone that climbs up our spine and sleeps
on a hammock stretched across our rib cage.
Carry me and day after day
I will be your second heart,
beating outside of your chest,
reminding you of all the reasons you have
to cut yours out.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Hi my name is Cardiomyopathy.
I'm 2 years old and I've already had 3 miscarriages.
A run in with alcohol abuse, drug abuse, my noose apparent.
Loose and daring met cruel and caring,
They used to laugh now but cry later loved sharing.
So much for monogamy. Did I mention my name is Cardiomyopathy?
I'm 2 years old with a mild case of marital affairs gone wrong. My mind used to tell me this house is no home.
Careless.
I played dodge ball in a glass house with stones.
Broken.
No real insurance, the love that ensured this.
Was gone.
Every piece of male that she opened, she failed...To pay attention.
Homeless and senseless.
Hopeless romantic my alias. Cardiomyopathy my condition.
Medicated dedication to relieve side effects called intuition.
Treatment unknown and remains at the throne of my wish list.
I'm only two years old. With the stress of a twenty two year cold. Lovely fevers that shake bones that create moans of twisted passion.
My addiction had grown afflicted with my stress and cold madness.
Ah-choo! to be cold Adieu to meek moans.
In retrospect. Mistress was a side downer fueled by sadness, so this cold could live long and wreak havoc; As long as it numbed me.
Recovery at my fingertips and once I'm healthy and bubbly,
The realization that will **** me will be the fact that haunts me...
You never loved me.
I choose to be cold.
My name is Cardiomyopathy. I'm only 2 years old.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC