The inspiration for this poem comes from long years of battling with fibro and depression and trying to get doctors to listen to my pleas. Just because I am nearly 59 does not mean I have to give up the one thing I really feel would make me feel a little better about myself. Two years therapy and visits to gyne doctors and sexual relationship specialists have come to nothing. They do not understand what the pain of intercourse can do to destroy one's self image.
I used to be
a sexy beast
my life
alive
my love
a feast.
My body worked
my sheets got creased.
Then fibro
reared
it's ugly head
and
in my bed
amour decreased
I feel,
sometimes,
that part of me
became
deceased.