Diagnosis

The news plays in the background , it’s been on repeat all day,

In synchrony with the monotone beeps-

and hums of the machines.

I sit alone in this hospital bed,

They tell me in less than a year I’ll be dead,

I was diagnosed right after you left and since then its spread.

It metastasized in my lungs,

I can barely breath-

The weight of all it just collapses into me.

My heart is so heavy, and they say that –

I loved you so deeply ,

That when you left it killed me.

The cuts drained me-

My blood poured out,

With all my guts,

Intestines and gore –

All because you wanted more than all of me.

The toxins ate away at my flesh,

And I have rotted from the inside,

I’m pale and grey now,

Weak and frail, nothing like I used to be-

But all things do die eventually, and truthfully-

I never really saw myself ever being much older –

I couldn’t really picture my face on the woman holding the toddler,

My bones aging with the roots I built,

I guess I never saw myself getting over the hill.

It makes sense, this destiny –

I was always meant to give,

With every last piece of me,

And now my bodies running on empty,

because I have nothing left to give.