you left your liver
at my place last night.
it fell into the vase
after our fight.
before my eyes
last saw your back,
you said, God, I feel
lighter after that.
daisies grew over it,
claiming your rot.
they stretched and
stretched
right out of their pot.
their blossoms bloomed right
next to my ear,
and they laughed and joked
and yelled and sneered;
"your babys no more,
your darlings not here.
how can you love
what's disappeared?"
I cut off their heads and
threw them away,
then cried all night and
dreamed you had stayed.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
woke up in the morning,
the sky was all grey.
and the guillotined flowers
had new heads in place.
they stood up tall,
im contrast of me,
and huffed and puffed
all angrily;
"your lover let go,
couldn't stand
it anymore.
it's impossible
to love a war"
I slashed their necks,
ignored the screams.
but is what they said really
true about me?
I tripped into bed and closed
my eyes
and wished the sun would
never rise.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
but the next day came, time
always prepared.
a single flower stood up
right there.
one survived, surrounded
by dead.
it shook in its roots,
the lonely daisy head.
and it cried and it sang and
it weeped and it begged;
"your heart is all gone.
you're all corrupted.
he needed your love
but instead you obsessed.
you couldn't see
past your largeness
of life,
into his eyes, his soul,
his might.
what could've been
and now is never,
a gorgeous bloom,
a tragic end-eavor."
and this time, I left the
little bud unscathed
because it's words
painted me in a dark
blue shade.
I can't seem to organize
my mind anymore.
I thought he was happy but I
never thought more.
it turns out that I am the
terrible thing
and that maybe he was right
to leave.
I gave him nothing, and we
died of thirst.
our water in my palms
slipped past my fingers.
i search my memories for our
last kiss
but find only angry, sad
moments.
did I really ever give
him my love?
did I ever tell him that he was
enough?
God, I feel heavy after
all that.
and I so wish he'd
come take his liver back.
but this parting bouquet of
sorry, too-lates
is all I get
for a heart so black.
☆☆☆☆☆
if he knocks on my
door again,
wanting his organ,
I won't keep him a second
longer.
I miss him, what would've been,
but I'll try to go on
and grow stronger.
-V
YOU ARE READING
who i am and why i'm not (poetry)
PoetryI'll love you for history, through your death, through mine.
