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May 2017
Click click click thud,
click click click thud. Click click

Click thud click thud

Click click click thud.*

You place my dreams on a butcher’s board and chop them off one by one

As if they weren’t living cells of myself, as if they couldn’t see what you did

You pick one up, like you’d pick a grape, lick it and say too much

You never tell me what too much, was it sour or sweet? Maybe you’d like red if not green

I could have showed you another.

I could have showed you what I could do with them but you have me shivering against the wall,

I am too scared, too scared to move, and no voice leaves my throat or I would’ve screamed so loud the walls would have rattled, I swear the roof could have fallen if the voice inside of my body could only find an expression out

Just an expression out

I look at you and my eyes beg to say, but I know even they are red, just red, or are they green? – which do you like? –

I could have seen them ripen, I could have seen them take me out of this dingy, dark room to a different world and you saw that. I know because you took in the fragrance when you brought them to your lips and you shuddered but smiled, and you said

too much
Maria Imran
Written by
Maria Imran  22/F
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