Future Words of Yesterday: Issue #4 (#wattys2016)

Talking Out Soft

Destroyed

Don't ask me to write a poem about you.

Don't ask me to write.

It wouldn't be pretty.

The words I'm going to use

to describe you

will be mad.

It wouldn't please you. You'll hate me for it.

It would all be about breaking, about ripping my chest apart.

It's all going to be about my mouth. my teeth.

How they bleed every time you put your tongue inside.

It will all be about getting destroyed.

I will allow you to ruin me.

I will allow you to abandon me

like an old church that's ready to collapse.

I will not make you stay.

I will let you walk straight

without turning your back to see if I'm doing alright.

I won't let you see me cry. Just please.

Don't ask me to write another poem about you.

It won't be beautiful.

It would be like reading letters that would

eventually form into bruises and blood clots.

They say a day of writing is a good writing day.

But to me it means writing about you,

about us and how we burned each other to pieces.

How one day I have all these sunflowers planted on my thighs,

then you started uprooting them like my body is just made of weeds.

Don't ask me to write about you.

But perhaps you don't need to.

I still do it.

I do it like breathing and it's suffocating me.

So I guess writing about you

is a form of self-destruction too.

Poem written by,

irishjulienne (Talking Out Soft, FWOY)