My Voice

Losing Me

Losing Me


He grunted a gutteral pig noise
with each spoonful put to to my lips

They say,
he stood by me,
 through thick and thin
(on top of me,
over me)

After the babies,
before my skin thinned,
and cheeks hollowed,
before my arms ripped and thighs firmed

I was me
more layered perhaps
but me.

I begged him to see me
without dressings,
void of curvature and trapping of self confidence
I was nakedly
filled with poem and passion.

Now he says,
he can't imagine losing me
I say,
it's not possible to lose
that which you never found.



Mary




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Losing Me

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