I have no idea what this poem means

You cannot heal me with your broken words,
smothered by your good intentions all renewal withers.

I shall be well
when the taste of life explodes in my heart
like sherbet on a tongue.

I am not your responsibility, I am my own
I cultivate my own garden
and what pleases me shall flourish
you cannot decide what I should keep
that choice is mine
and with it I will find redemption.

© ceenoa

Ode to a Lapband – or, I’m having the Op

I’m off for my op in the morning
no eating from midnight tonight
so I’m giving you all a fair warning
without morning coffee I might not act right

i may be cranky and grumpy
just know that it’s not the real me
forgive my looking so frumpy
morning coffee is what makes me serene

I’m having a lapband tomorrow
to combat my increase of girth
so liquids are now on my menu
for many weeks of future meals worth

I thought I’d be eating like crazy
this last week of food freedom for me
But I decided to save for my last meal
and I’m having pizza and cheesecake for tea

my eating will change from tomorrow
I hope my health will begin to repair
food has long been my comfort and sorrow
but they say this should soon disappear

to eat only when hungry
to stop when my body says full
that statement has always seemed funny
in a way that was dreadfully cruel

I look forward to loosing my “empty”
that ravenous black hole for food
to days when yummies don’t tempt me
to beat this addiction for good.

© ceenoa