Promise Me

You’re going
to hurt me. You’re going
to break my heart.

The funny thing is, I’m going
to let you. I’m going

to welcome it. You’re not
forbidden. You’re not

even bad news. The love of you
won’t kill me. No one will judge us
for this. But even so, there will be
heartbreak, and it will come
from your hands or your mouth

when I least expect it. I won’t
flinch. I won’t

flinch from what you’re going
to do, so promise me you won’t,
either.

No tags for this post.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.