It’s just another day on your calendar

to pick up a cup of coffee

on your way to work.

Big decision may be to decide upon which coffeehouse? Which blend?

The news is skipping channels.

But to me it’s the anniversary

of my father’s death

nine years have come and gone.

I was weak in the knees upon

hearing he had seven months to live.

Get over it people say

don’t look at the past

but what if the future holds

more sadness

than I ever imagined

loved ones diagnosed

with labels

sitting here in the waiting room

to see if my breasts

hold life or death in them.

Sitting here alone 

and then getting a text

I would have come with you

I love you.

But everyone is so wrapped up

in their own calendar

they neglect yours.

It’s just another day

of the unknown.

Lately, I’m empty

the well of words

run dry.

I go on and on

only to discover

more appointments 

to change my life

into a new one.

Wanted or unwanted

most times

we don’t have a choice.

At least I have a view of the city

sitting in a robe

breasts hanging

airplane mode of life.

I don’t feel sexy at all

in fact

I feel ugly.

Waiting for life

to be taken away

in a split second

the way it usually happens.

But then the doctor tells me

I’m fine.

Everything will be just fine,

only it isn’t

and it will never be again.


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