I'm disabled, dammit
But the way you smith words
You must think that I'm porcelain
Ready to shatter.

You tiptoe, your words so light
They barely carry
through the air.

It’s rude to see me.
This body is a fragile secret
You hide from me.

What I carry is dangerous
Might as well be infectious
Could sneak up or come head-on
Before you know it,
Your body speaks louder than words.

With one wrong move
Your blood could thicken
Your skin could stretch
Your bones could break
Your heart could flutter
Your lungs could wheeze
Your bowels could empty
Your brain could slow
Or perhaps worse, speed
And who would you be then?
But blood
And skin
And bones
And flesh?

Silence carves fear deeper
Nests in your chest,
Splits us apart.
Don’t you dare think
you’re sparing me pain.
I'm disabled, dammit.
And the only thing more fragile than me
is you, facing what I already know.

This piece is published anonymously; however, the author shares that they are a medical student matching this year.