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.
Going under,
a rising tide of cold takes it all from me
I thought you were mine
and then somewhere in there,
my words and voice were gone
I was yours and I wasn’t my own
but you were careless
more careless
than I ever thought I could be.
I don’t say these words out loud.
I don’t see these things
because I know you’ll see me
in a different light
a bad one
a red and black one
a blue one
and it’ll color me always,
in tones of damage and hate.
We make monsters
with our love,
we turn the world
against itself.
We craft nightmares
with our dreams,
our personal successes
come from the deaths of others.
You and I,
we are alike,
we are cut
of the same cloth,
and merely sewn
with different threads.
Hey, (say hey)
remember (the time, when we)
that one time (that one time, bombs away)
you were (never what I wanted)
totally understanding (how’s your memory?)
about my fuckups (plenty of them have I had, yes)
and didn’t bring (my A-game)
each and every single (one of us, one of us)
one of them (oh, plenty, plenty)
to light in front of God (He watches all the time, dirty fucker)
and everyone (and everyone’s sister, you know what a bitch she is)
so you could point out (to me and everyone else, but me in specific)
how superior you (can you keep it up?)
are? No? (YES YES YES!)
Me either. Take your (cat and leave your sweater)
ball and go (the fuck)
home. I have a (it’s a wonderful)
life. I (gotta big)
have a husband (and his beautiful wife)
who runs. I have (eight is enough)
children (flesh of my flesh).
We are of (we belong to)
the night, and we hunt (the hunters)
blood, and howl at the (raving)
moon, running with the (colors of the)
wind. We are pack (what big teeth you have)
and tribe (didn’t you know)
and family (blood is thicker than).
You (darling you send me)
are nothing (nothing, nothing, if I don’t)
to me now (are you even listening?).
The joy in me is flat and grey.
I lift it up to give it light,
to make it airy,
to hope it will fly.
Cigarette burns
and perfume’s blue fire —
these memories
are all I have.
I wonder if I will still have them
somewhere inside me
when I am too old
to remember my own name.
I’m not sure I ever loved you.
That thought makes me happy.
The joy in me is bright.
I am bright.
At some point
you will bear the brunt
of my benediction,
and I will let you go
but for right now,
I accept the lovely, terrible fact
that I do not wish you
any kind of peace.
