literature

Cancer has a smell.

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DearPoetry's avatar
By
Published:
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Literature Text

Old classics,
lilac air-fresheners,
the half cup of
peppermint ice cream
that’s been
sitting in your freezer
for weeks, and cat litter.

He won’t eat anymore,
but there are
piles and piles
of dirty dishes
sitting in the sink.

He’s slowly
disintegrating
before your eyes.

You can wrap
your whole self
around his tiny bones
now.

You can hold him
like he used to hold you
all those years ago.

And you are angry.
You try to find
someone,
or something
to blame.

You hate doctors,
and you hate
November now.

November means
birthdays, diagnoses,
chemo treatments,
and realization.

You have to force yourself
to stop crying,
every day.

This is the one person
who’s always had faith
in you.

He’s read every poem
and hoarded every award
you ever won.

You ignore statistics,
because roses
they always
smell nicer.
This is the worst poem I've ever written, I think.
I'm too emotional. I can't think.
But I recorded a reading:
soundcloud.com/dearpoetry/canc…
( Sorry my voice is all shaky and I'm trying not to cry. )
Comments48
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IDreamOfTheWind's avatar
I am very sorry for your loss. Was this written for someone you knew?