One-hundred and Seventy-five: At Least

Build a wall and get over it. The trivialisation stings
like a butterfly needle in an exhausted vein. I am

designing a collage of emotions for you to analyse.
In case you ever cared. Life keeps rolling and I am

drinking and laughing in a way that is so 2010,
despite the shadow of you memory in the corner

of my mind. Everything is the same except for
your absence. You were such a short chapter

in my over-flowing life that you shouldn’t mean
anything. But you did. But you do. I have been

a poster-girl for anti-love for so long. I chose
to expose my heart for you, not yet, but soon,

and I have been cheated. I hate you for handing
me that hope and then taking it away. I have

never said this before but: I wish I had never
met you. I was fine, healing a burnt body,

a long-time burning soul, and you had to come
along and give me one more thing to survive.

I will not apologise for writing poetry about you.
At least there is one thing to thank you for.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

2 thoughts on “One-hundred and Seventy-five: At Least”

  1. These words say it all for me, “I hate you for handing
    me that hope and then taking it away.”
    You are fabulous, I’m so glad I discovered you today. Just when I needed your poetry.

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