What I cannot have
I sit at thoughts’ forest, being purred upon,
wishing my only concerns were as simple.
Cat doesn’t care that I fear for our future
or that bills are due. He cares that my lap is warm.
My stomach, a fire of doubt, begs for poison.
I stop to consider the reasons I’m awake.
Months of pushing food into an unforgiving
body no longer able to understand the onslaught.
My mind, an echo of anxieties, begs for reason,
wishes for wholeness, cries out for acceptance,
dreams of contentment, wants what it cannot have;
a writer’s mind, a poet’s soul…and a normal life.
A deep well of thought, not empty, nor dark, but filled with treasure yet to unfold.
I have gastroparesis and know better than to eat that stuff. But there are times when dark chocolate and stacks of potato chips seem to be calling my name. 🙂