Double-edged Sword: a poetry collection

future former favorite

I don’t think twin flames exist.
Like Taylor Swift says in her longest song, it can bruise.
No matter the amount of breakups she’s been through.
She’ll always whip up a masterpiece that calls back the tears.
I’m torn between forgetting and facing my fears.

I prefer apples over pears.
Because the red is more fun.
With it you can remember nothing and it won’t affect a single soul.

The green is less enthusing.
Safer, but not as exhilarating.

The twin flame bruise caused me to go blue.
Not just blue.
I was absolutely blue raspberry.
I was positively Morpho butterfly.
I was exactly the color of a taxi.
Nobody saw nor knew because only my insides were splashed in cyan dye.
Because paint is usually toxic, fatal.
I got what I wanted in the end, y’know, to die.
I feel dead inside, and that’s probably eternal.