Saying goodbye to you is like having my

Left arm ripped from my body.


Can I function without it?



Can I go on without it?



But the sheer, excruciating pain

of having it hacked away,


makes the answers irrelevant.

I’m not whole without it,


yet I am expected to act

as if I never lost it.


Even though I am dripping

blood on everything I touch,


I just look the other way, pretending

everything is as white as snow,


not fazed by the crimson stain

that leaks into my life.


Though the wound heals the best it can,

hidden beneath mounds of gauze,


I can’t hide what’s underneath:

dry blood mixed with salty tears.


Thankfully, the lesion is temporary,

I get to feel whole again.


My wounds are kissed until

the blood is washed away,


the tears slide off, and the throbbing

pain is wiped from my memory,


until the next time a part of me

is viciously taken.


  1. You describe your pain vividly

  2. This piece flows very well – your conversational style is easy to read and access. I’m sorry you had to go through this though. :/

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