Pain, ripping flesh, breaking bones, searing flames of agony.
This isn’t torture. It’s my normal.
Tears flow down swollen cheeks to meet the pool gathered on my pillow. How many more nights will this flare last?
The drill in my ear, pressure building. Electric shocks through my jaw. Someone stop it.
Turn off the power. Cut the nerve. Rescue me. I’m dying. Please help me.
I wrote that poem in the middle of a flare up of the neuralgias I love with. They are always constant, but some days they flare so bad I cannot function. It’s unbelievably frustrating. The pain is beyond what the human body should have to endure. 10 days to surgery. I am so ready for this to be done!
I guess I was just too much. Too loving. Too strong. Too resilient. Some people don’t like that. Some people can’t handle that.
I guess I was just too much. Too much woman for a small minded man. Too strong for a weak man. Too much of myself for a man still searching for himself.
I guess I was just too much. Too outspoken. Too opinionated. Too loud. Too bold. Too powerful. Too much.
I guess I was just too much for the man unaware of my offerings. I guess I was just too much for the man too blind to see my beauty. I guess I was just too much for the man too stuck in the past to live in the present moment. I guess I was just too much for the man afraid of the future.
This universe is conspiring against me.
Dangling carrots, each amazing possibility.
Here, look at this. You can touch it if you please.
But let it go by morning, watch it as it leaves.
A supernatural slight of hand.
A karmic confusion from beginning to end.
via Daily Prompt: Slight