at first I liked nothing about him.
I sent him away,
he kept coming back,
like a case of chronic bronchitis,
one, you can’t cough out for months.
and somehow,
with time,
I got used to his presence,
like to a useless piece of furniture,
needed,
to hide a yellow spot of old vomit
on your white carpet… .
there was no point or meaning to it, just a shame,
one, you must keep behind a locked door.
until one day,
when he walks away… .
it was a relief, at first,
but then, I felt
an alien entity in my chest,
between my lungs and heart,
pushing it apart, against my ribs:
growing, squishing, squashing.
I curled in my bed
like an unborn child in a womb,
I contemplated my escape… .
an abortion was not an option,
it was rooted in my diaphragm… .
© 2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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