Saturday, March 9, 2013


I can sometimes forget
that they are gone.
those mounds of flesh that were never good enough
had been scooped out and signed away
for genetic research
those bits of flesh that I cursed until the day
when I saw their magic
as they nursed my crying child to sleep
or when I learned that their milk can cure pink eye
did you know that?
some even say that their milk can cure cancer
valium helps me sleep and dream of
other things
but then I remember
when the hard cording
from the drains pull on my incisions
or when a strange piece of metal from
the expanders
protrude in such a way that I ache
or when my son or daughter needs
an embrace and I must hug with caution
my chest feels split open
and for now, I am one of the lucky ones
who was spared nipples and skin
and who found a lovely surgeon
who hid the scars under the breast
and the plastic surgeon who says,
“they will be bigger and perkier”
and isn’t life grand
but I want the old ones back
the ones that I could feel
under my shirt
the ones that fed my children
and danced with gravity
the ones that felt passion
the ones that were mine
the ones that I sacrificed
so that I might live.


  1. I hope you take all of these posts and publish them in a book one day; so others who are also suffering yet unable to express can feel the relief from your words and especially from your art. xoxolove

  2. This is a gorgeous piece of writing.

    1. Thank you Delphyne. Written during a dark period. Things aren't exactly sunny now, but a bit brighter.

  3. This is deep and it is profound. More than anything though, it is real and it is true. xo