I Grieve

I daydream of sweetness and excess.

Saliva flows under my tongue

pooling in my mouth.

Strawberry shortbread, topped with warm caramel

and vanilla ice cream is what I want.

*

I can taste the moist, buttery richness,

the vanilla notes that tease my taste buds.

In my mind, I have already placed forkfuls in my mouth,

feeling the different textures-

the softness of the cake,

the fine crumbs that move like atoms.

*

A voice interrupts.

Are you hungry, or are you craving sugar?

I try to blame the gluttony on my tongue.

Shirk the responsibility that I want more and need more.

I should blame the bottle of pills.

I lift my shirt and pinch my sides

as if my warm hands could pull away the layer of stubborn fat.

It has been there a few years now.

I shut my eyes.

It does me no good to stare.

I can hear the voice again, It is because you like dessert too much.

My response, "I haven't had cheesecake in years."

I read the small print on the bottle;

"may cause weight gain".

MAY: This word seeks permission or expresses a possible outcome.

The medication never sought my consent.

Nor did it ask if I ever wanted to be sated.

Breathing air tipped the scales.

I barely had to consume anything.

*

Recently the supreme court overturned Roe v Wade.

Decisions surrounding my choice to bring life

poses an undue burden on my rights.

I stare at the bottle of pills.

The one which may cause spontaneous abortions,

and I see myself trapped in a barren land where a forest used to thrive.

The atmosphere has me in a chokehold.

My neurons begin to fire,

forcing memories of brighter futures to resurface.

*

I told myself that if I found the right one,

I would settle for two: a boy and a girl.

You can't have kids.

Again, I blame the pills.

What if I get raped?

Would I be penalized for my body's inability

to be the best host for a life I didn't agree to carry?

Those pills control me.

I cry every time I see pictures of who I used to be;

the person torn away from me by this 'remedy'.

I'm often reprimanded for living in the past,

reminded that I can't change a thing

on the timeline already behind me.

*

I take no guilt in grief;

it is my time, not yours.

It is my body, not yours.

I will never have another.

Earth lives inside of me,

for when I die, dust I will be.

*

I once wanted to plant seeds.

My body gave me none to sow.

I have accepted that this is who I am,

yet I sometimes grieve.

Your permission I do not need.

...........................................................

Thank you for reading!