oh i pray you don't forget me
or the night you fucking wrecked me-
stop it! i can still feel you
climbing on top of me
and still have to tell you (somehow)
i lost the baby.
brimming with life
until a soft death arises
inside of me,
i lost our baby.
GODDAMN this wretched carcass,
of the boy who never cared:
oh i pray you never forget
all of what we could be (could've been)
now i saw you in that all-black benz,
i caught you on another bend:
and oh! i pray to God,
this pain will end...
but
when?
YOU ARE READING
unalive
Puisia collection of poems by Natasha Knemeyer, inspired by Thomas Swanick, dedicated to survivors' club, or if anyone else wishes to read it
