Y’all, I’m a damn mess.
Shingles ain’t no joke. If you’ve never suffered with Herpes Zoster I can’t describe to you how painful and debilitating it can be. It’s so bad I implore you to get the damn vaccine! I know I’m going to get it once this bout clears up. I don’t care how many chips Bill Gates implants in me, I don’t ever want to go through this again.
As I go through this acceptance phase of grief I am starting to see just how horrible some of the men are who I’ve previously allowed into my life. For instance, this morning I got a text from this guy:
HIM: Hi. How are you? ME: I have shingles. HIM: Sounds painful. Want to hook up when you're better? ME: *blocks number*
I chose to write this poem as a creative visualization of how I want my lover to treat me. This will help me draw this lover to me as I banish those from my life who treat me the way Matt did.
My Beloved While I lie here in misery, it’s his smiling eyes I see. His brow furrowed with concern as he brushes back the curls from my face. His fingers trace the lines on my forehead. Joining me on the bed, he gazes into my soul and asks how he can console me. He kisses me tenderly then whispers I should rest as he hovers o’er our love nest. He leaves, uttering his most ardent affection, washing me in its warm reflection.