my brain is a beehive.
always buzzing.
dripping with the honey of my thoughts.

calloused hands-
my therapist tells me
to up my meds

The number 7
is a yellow lozenge.

He rolls around my brain with tumbleweed joy,
leaving an after-taste of citrus
and conviction.

I wish I could fire my brain
from firing for you.

I wish I could unwire my brain
from being wired for you.

Because the day I stop loving you
is the day I'm no longer myself.

I came with a sword in one hand and a knife in the other.

You may not feel like one,
but you are a warrior.
You wield arms
you didn't think you could bear.

She spent the night and left in the morning.

My brain broke the news to me later that day.
"There’s no easy way to say this,
but I think we’re falling apart."


She ignored me when I sat next to her the next day.

My brain consoled me as I laid in bed.
"I know this is hard for you,
it’s hard for me too."

He said to me
"If you want to be a doctor
you'll have to give up everything".

I said to him
"The only thing I don't want to give up
is being a doctor".

And my voice,
my female voice,
shook the room.