Giving up
Are you giving up?
you asked.
Giving up?
What I have lost was
taken.
What can I choose to give up?
Hope for a cure?
Wrapping a heart around a barbed flower only leads to
bleeding.
The dream of a life without pain?
Even in dreams, my body no longer remembers pain’s
absence.
Treatment?
When giving up would lead to a life without
motion.
When feet, ankles, knees already
betray.
When flat, still ground is now
treacherous.
When my fingers, hands
stiffen,
fumble,
forbid.
When everyday tasks are fraught with
frustration,
fatigue,
failure.
Life?
When two hearts that once beat within me still
need.
When I’ve still so much to learn of the soul I chose to link with my own,
in sickness, for worse,
for always.
When I can’t bear the thought of leaving
too soon,
at all.
When every painful moment of this existence still makes me crave
more.
More quiet evenings with a soft, sleepy head nestled against me.
More running leaps into my arms.
More breathless laughter. More whispered confessions.
More soft kisses. More passionate embraces.
More words to read, to write. More worlds to see, to imagine.
More.
But, I can choose to give up
pretense.
I will not always smile through the anguish.
I will not always shrug off the exhaustion.
I will not always thank you for the latest miracle cure.
I will not always hold in my sobs, hide my fears, extinguish my anger.
But,
I often will,
for your sake.
So you won’t ask me again,
Are you giving up?
