NAA ASHELEY ASHITEY

I who have never relied on substances stronger than Wellbutrin to get me to catch the 7:27am bus

The light hasn’t necessarily turned off,
but I can see how muted it becomes after a few puffs.  

I can no longer see the
single line across your sclera 

that always held that
blueish-lilac hue. 

The red blood vessels in the inner corner of your eyes,
or maybe they’re called arteries, 

you’ll have to excuse me,
I struggle with anatomy, 

blend nicely with the pinkish red of what was
once the whites of your eyes.

I know they say this state brings euphoria,
even calm for some,

but selfishly,
I feel as if I have been robbed.

I no longer have a galaxy to admire,
to lose myself within. 

Neither do you though.
I too think you see what it steals from you, 

what she makes you
put away. 

Hiding is never the solution
it makes itself out to be.

To be a stranger in your body
never really solves our problems.

Is it wrong for me to say
That I wish I could go up and tell you that a

white to red formed by a
self-made ocean may may be crushing,

but it at least ensures that the
lilac is watered and visible.

Naa Asheley Afua Adowaa Ashitey (She/Her/Hers) is a Chicago-born writer and an MD-PhD Student at UW-Madison School of Medicine and Public Health. She is interested in the intersection between scientific research, medicine and the humanities. Her works have been published or forthcoming in Hobart, The Brussels Review, JAKE, Abstract, The Inflectionist Review, Sage Cigarettes Magazine, and more. More at NaaAshitey.com 

Twitter/Instagram: @foreverasheley
Bluesky: @foreverasheley.bsky.social