Stage 4
I’ve met this disease
But it never followed me home
It used to give me personal space
And take my anxiety as a loan
Now it stands heavy on my shoulder
Weighing me down like a
Chemotherapy boulder
Pestering me like a spoiled child
Wondering why the KRAS is wild
Who can we blame for this pain
This marital strain
The feeling I may be going insane
I’m stuck beneath the ice
My dreams on hold
Slow growing mold
I dread to feel the cold
Of a hand long past gripping
My heart starts skipping
Picturing your eyes dripping
Hearing the way your voice broke
As you said, “I hate my life”
And I walked into your strife
No longer knowing your safe spaces
Or how to be your wife
4 thoughts on "Stage 4"
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getting a taste of emily dickinson here.
can you try to make it half as long?
i think you can boil this down
to pack 3 times the punch.
it’s got solid bones…
Great suggestion! I tend to write in what I think of as slam poetry format and it makes me lean towards length.
Also, thank you for your Emily comment. 🥹 I’ve actually been working on a poem that features her name so that feels kismet.
I like the music that carries me through this heart-breaking scenario. Especially drawn to “I’m stuck beneath the ice” — that feeling of being trapped. Well done.
Like:
I’ve met this disease
But it never followed me home
AND
My dreams on hold
Slow growing mold