you say you hope that it stops
and there's no more deaths
and I bite my tongue
because I know there's nobody left
to die
I think.
only the untimely
and if I jinx that
then it's just a matter of time
but I try not to believe in jinxes,
I used to believe all too much
and that got me an anxiety disorder
and a forehead eroded from the touch.
so I bite my tongue,
hold my breath,
look down and not at the uncle
who smiles so much when I do
because I never used to
because I wasted so much time being shy
and now everybody is dying and I never looked them in the eye.
YOU ARE READING
hope and half mangled poetry
Poetryˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹poems that ive been writing recently. ◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ 》hope, longing, nostalgia, change, identity, death. 《 blood bled pure: nostalgia is the muse and dredging is the art i hold lost people like trinkets, and parade them in my heart. the past...