Hospice

Image: pixshark.com
Image: pixshark.com

If you are reading this… it means I am dead.

Know that I was not an old man,

Simply a rapidly ageing one. 

Out of control, I bumped into a disease

I wasn’t yet ready to meet and greet.

Yet became my constant companion.

A part of my life as true as the love

I hold for all of you, my dear ones.

 

Time then caught up with me quickly.

Still you tried not to notice,

The deep creases on my forehead

The new tremors of my hands

The sickly spots on my face

The last strands of my crown

The slowed pace of my stroll

 

There was so much to do and see.

Give my daughters to their husbands,

Play with my future grandchildren,

Hold my wife taking in our empty nest,

Prepare for a future just for us again.

Maybe buy a caravan to go places

Other than the hospital two miles away.

 

Know that I was just an aged body,

A young spirit not ready to leave.

But I saw my son coming to get me –

The one I held only for few moments

Before lowering him six feet under.

He gave me the strength to let go,

And wisdom to keep looking after you..


I witnessed a young man succumbing to health problems at the hospital. He lives on through his wife and two young daughters. Maybe I am trying to capture his thoughts… Abhra has us writing letters at dVerse. Head over to read a few more.

Confessions of a Model

eating-disorders-teens

Visit me sometime, said the dessert plate.

One more slice will not hurt.

No one would know.

 

There’s always room for one more.

One more piece of chocolate.

One more slice of pizza.

One more stick of butter.

 

The mirror became the enemy.

Shrieked at the jiggling flab.

Mocked at the increasing weight.

Fumed at the new plus sizes.

 

The toilet bowl understood though.

Gave the nerve to ram my fingers.

Helped in ignoring the vile taste.

Cheered by showing the flat tummy.

 

My head strayed on its way back home.

Cigarettes were the slimming pills.

Alcohol roped in mock-happiness.

Drugs erased traces of grim reality.

 

My body started giving up on me.

Only dismal escapades in bed.

Blackouts a steady companion.

Painful withdrawal while resisting.

 

Visit me sometime said the toilet bowl.

One more puke will not hurt.

No one would know.

 

But… I would know.


Inspired by some dark conversations and confessions shared with an aspiring model. Anthony at dVerse has us spilling our beans tonight at the pub. Join in and share yours…

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