I'm Pregnant

Struggling with the transition of sharing myself and the changes that occur.


I'm a host for
a separate soul.
Eventually, I'll lose
control.  Movements
slow, and neurons progressively
stop responding to me.

I absorb textures
as if it was my discovery.
Sensation on fading skin
and I can't tell if this
pan is burning me.

I forget how to recharge.
My eyes stay open. I try
to lay still. 
                  But
                        the sheet has too many crumbs
                        and I'm a princess who
                        can't sleep on a pea.
                        The dryer cycle has ended
                        I must prevent those
                        wrinkles from pressing. 
        
                        The light in the bathroom 
                        was left on. I hear the fan, trying 
                        to remove non-existent humidity.

Nutrients escape me,
no matter the amount
I consume. Always delivered
to the other person within me.

I cannot recognize my face.
Not with such a dramatic change.
Soon my whole self will 
be gone. And I'm left confused
about the identity of my old body. 

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