(2015)
Dedicated to my sister and our late night talks when this became my catchphrase.
Clinical smells Polite strangers The only thing worse Than being here Is to not be able
A fresh faced country girl Who pioneers on her bicycle Catches the eye Of a transplant from Houston Love begins through letters
A healthy pancreas Is like a transmission Seamlessly shifting gears In type 2 diabetics Wear and tear
I don’t expect Diabetes education For the public But chances are You know one
My objective is selfish Not to share or be heard To get it out and move on No one seems to hear my pain No one seems to feel my pain
A joke Lost in Translation You will Never
Pretty and dainty Rich girl feet Meant to be Beside the pool They don’t like to work
How do I Catch your interest? Once again I know You are bored with me
My pump Constant companion Of my disease My sensor Resembles a feeding
When I think of my mom I think of malt o meal muffins When I think of my dad Memories of a child Chasing us around the circle
Didn’t they know that people cared? That they were loved? Why didn’t someone tell them?
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
I cannot divide My heart Into four pieces Equally Geometrically
My heart breaks A little each day For problems I can’t solve For things I can’t change All I can do is pray
Water Beach pools and fountains Rivers creeks and waterfalls The sound The feel Floating Weightless