First she will run her fingers through your hair
and poetry
will spill out of her mouth
full of cliches that are not quite verbatim.
Then she will wear her favorite smile that knows how to destroy you,
just like you knew she would,
and with every spear you reluctantly hand her,
she will use them,
plunging them
in and out
in and out
from between your ribs
catching pieces of your heart
with it,
and your gut may tell you
to leave
but you won't.
Next, you will take those spears
and you will do as she did--
plunging them
in and out
in and out
of yourself
until you feel nothing
but a numbing in your
conscience
and you think of nothing
but doing it again
and again
until one day your veins
will thirst
for some warmth again
and you will have to get up then
and you will have to leave at that instant.
You will have to rid her
from your past
and you must never look back
at her.
You cannot remember her.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
First she will run her fingers through your hair
and poetry
will spill out of her mouth
full of cliches that are not quite verbatim.
Then she will wear her favorite smile that knows how to destroy you,
just like you knew she would,
and with every spear you reluctantly hand her,
she will use them,
plunging them
in and out
in and out
from between your ribs
catching pieces of your heart
with it,
and your gut may tell you
to leave
but you won't.
Next, you will take those spears
and you will do as she did--
plunging them
in and out
in and out
of yourself
until you feel nothing
but a numbing in your
conscience
and you think of nothing
but doing it again
and again
until one day your veins
will thirst
for some warmth again
and you will have to get up then
and you will have to leave at that instant.
You will have to rid her
from your past
and you must never look back
at her.
You cannot remember her.
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