unfinished.
wrote this about someone i thought i’d spend the rest of my life with. now i can’t think of any more words to add to this and complete.
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To the Bone, Dorothy Allison
[ID: That summer I did not go crazy / but I wore / very close / very close / to the bone.]
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the end of something i wrote a little over a year ago. im still too nervous to post the whole piece however
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you ask a boy for his heart and he gives you a replica of his beating heart on a platter and a knife
you wake up from your nap with a sapphire promise ring and a sinking feeling;
clawing your way into his arms and his space and his time,
and suddenly you’re 12 and awkward with glasses and crooked limbs and trying
trying to get someone to pay attention
on your toes with your best grades with your screams and cries and tears
and no one’s listening
you ask a boy for his heart and he gives you a replica of his beating heart on a platter and a knife
and on closer inspection you see he’s giving you the keys to get free,
because you only ever hold yourself back
in punishment;
repentance for sins you’ve never committed
because you’ve convinced yourself you’re a murderer
but you’re holding a knife and his heart
and he asks you to stab him and you still don’t do it
you won’t do it because it’ll hurt him
but you asked a boy for his heart and he gave you a replica of his beating heart on a platter and a knife
still, he never gave you his time or his attention or his affection.
you ask a boy for his heart and he gives you a replica of his beating heart on a platter and a knife
but all you asked for was his heart
not all this
-- august 20, 2023
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stardust (started november 2022) by me
the beginning of a little self reflection piece i had started last year, i am almost done i just don’t know if i have a good end for it yet
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— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra
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obsessed with josé olivarez love poems actually
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