Meh (my_window_seat) wrote,

The false hope of sarcoma

I miss you so much
so much
and so often when I am

when the walls of my
reserve are at their thinnest
you are just there
the benign growth
tendriled around the
pumping center of my

there you are
where you can’t be seen
wrapped around the
host organ
my heart

you are the morning glory
the ivy that severs brick, given time

you are just there
the creak in the gate and
in my bones when the weather
as predictable as the seasons
and as necessary

you are there
a fact that is as inseparable
as the one that you are not

you are there the most
when you are not

miss you
wish you were
and you are not
Tags: poetry, writing

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