Wed, 04/04/2018 - 20:32 -- Saroda

the best part of the norovirus

is that while it robs you of your breath,

leaves you sweat-shaking with hot chills in bed

it also steals your appetite


to be empty by no willpower of my own

i wake up to find the flu has ghosted me,

gone sudden and silent and i cry

because i want him back


i tried to donate blood

because i read  you lose six hundred calories with each pint

it's a kind of selfish charity,

to think i could make myself shrink by

giving a part of me away


hemoglobin levels low

but they take a nosedive of faith and take away my blood

and when black creeps like fuzzy static,

my head a carousel,

and the floor turns into the ceiling,

and when i faint four times

and they carry me

all i can think is i have to hide  my body but

they carry me, clutching clothes

and pendulum limbs

and my shirt lifts, i can't hide

and i don't know if i should stab them or apologize

This poem is about: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741