de la luna

The stench of blood lingers around my nose. That nauseating smell--or the illusion of smell--seems to emanate from within, coupled with a sense of vertigo. The sleep, much disturbed, is laden with vivid images and panic. But dreams are not the main culprit waking my sleep throughout the night. It is the pain--the most senselessly excruciating pain.

I let out a moan.

Then another.

Carefully I turn to the other side and curl up, like a fetus in a womb. Staring blankly into the dark void, I breathe in deep and hold my breath for a few moments. Then slowly and steadily, I let out the air I held in my lungs. I repeat. Again. The pain subsides slightly not a moment too soon. The eased pain is only temporary, I know, but I welcome the break.

My mouth is dry. And I am overcome by fatigue. In my head I still smell the goddamn blood. I drift slowly into the haze of sleep, knowing well that this unpleasant cycle will repeat shortly thereafter. I know, because this has been a recurring episode month after month for many past years, as it will continue month after month for many more years to come. This is only a slice of my womanhood.