this is the love I deserve:
a wicked form of backlash
designed to burn
insides and unkempt hearts.
as if the hole in my heart
wasn’t gaping already - a bullet
of disbelieving truth severing the blood red tendons
tying my soul into a sailor’s knot of blissful contempt.
as if my lungs weren’t already
collapsing like a giant willow tree
sagging in my chest.
if a tree falls in a forest
and there’s no one around to hear it…
would I make a difference?
you’d bury me alive in a dirt pit to save me.
and as the Earth encompassed me
I would stare blankly up at the clouds beyond
willing them to come down and take me to the sky.
suffocating.
but more alive than I had ever been
with. you.
that innocence you so desperately seek
in the eyes of girls more fearful than my own reckless heart -
can you finally see it as you close my lifeless eyes?
you would have preserved me – the naïve child I was.
a couple streets away
you’ll dim the lights
as my scream reverberates the ground.
a reminder.
of that girl you killed and buried in a graveyard.
but bright ears like your own
quickly turn deaf at the shrill sound of your regrets.
as you shakily pour milk into your cereal bowl
clinging onto a state of normalcy.
be calm.
just remember:
this is our epic love story.
the one you’ve so boldly engraved in a stone
over my body.
no one will believe that you killed me.
so dedicated. so in love.
as you picked up a shovel and became a god.
this isn’t backlash.
this is a lash back.