Dear Cancer, Stop Whispering To Me

Dear Cancer,

You need to stop whispering to me when I am happy —
when the sun is shining and rainbows are reflecting through prisms.
On quiet walks with my dog, you follow my shadow.
Right in the middle of a sentence, you interrupt and speak over me.
You pinch my body and leave me worried for my safety.
You poke at me with your energy and threaten to come pay a new visit.
You send text messages at all times of the day and night,
telling me I am not enough, that I need to be careful.
You took space in my body without asking for permission.
You did not pay rent, and you overstayed your welcome.
I had to cut you out and beam you with radiation.
You left me with a scar that reminds me to have boundaries —
if you so much as wave at me.
You are not allowed in my body again.
I am putting a lock on the door and a security gate up.
The surveillance cameras are on 24/7.
Your phone number is blocked.
This relationship ends here.
I will be relaxing by the pool in the back,
joyfully splashing with rainbows dancing —
probably reading a book.