(i) I made you a person you weren’t, within my head, to feel better about myself. I pretended that you were better than you were, looked for reasons that you never had and forgot the promises you never kept.
(ii) I ignored the tragedies that you walked around with. I noticed the uneven sounds of your footsteps but I always tried to match mine with yours instead.
(iii) I carried a first aid kit around for my heart, but I consumed all of it on yours, when you looked away.
(iv) I forgave you in apologies you never uttered. I knew you meant well, I thought you did.
(v) I read the letters you never wrote, one each week. They made me want to make you stay.
(vi) I called out your name when you were half out the door. I pretended that you turned around and said goodbye.
(vii) I whispered your name when you were gone, I wrote the words you whispered back and pretended that the paper wasn’t empty.
(viii) I made a paper plane out of it and sent it after you, hoping when it returned, I’d see your name signed in cursive on it.
(ix) I never saw the paper plane again.
(x) I made another one and told myself that you’d sent it back.
I almost believed that too.
•
•
•
_my heart never got first aid.
30/04
National Poetry Writing Month, Day 26.
#napowrimo
Poetry prompt: “find what you love,
and let it kill you.”
Charles Bukowski, 1978.
A dedication to my favourite poets. (part II)
(ii) I ignored the tragedies that you walked around with. I noticed the uneven sounds of your footsteps but I always tried to match mine with yours instead.
(iii) I carried a first aid kit around for my heart, but I consumed all of it on yours, when you looked away.
(iv) I forgave you in apologies you never uttered. I knew you meant well, I thought you did.
(v) I read the letters you never wrote, one each week. They made me want to make you stay.
(vi) I called out your name when you were half out the door. I pretended that you turned around and said goodbye.
(vii) I whispered your name when you were gone, I wrote the words you whispered back and pretended that the paper wasn’t empty.
(viii) I made a paper plane out of it and sent it after you, hoping when it returned, I’d see your name signed in cursive on it.
(ix) I never saw the paper plane again.
(x) I made another one and told myself that you’d sent it back.
I almost believed that too.
•
•
•
_my heart never got first aid.
30/04
National Poetry Writing Month, Day 26.
#napowrimo
Poetry prompt: “find what you love,
and let it kill you.”
Charles Bukowski, 1978.
A dedication to my favourite poets. (part II)
