TELL ME |
bb., rotten poetry
the air holds countless ghostly wishes
i’ve whispered
and screamed
for a truth i’ve never touched
you’re breathing one as you read
so please tell me
it’s all just figments of rotten bits
from an imagination that found the wild
and ran too far
tell me
that i still cry when i break
even my own belongings
out of inconvenience and not because
his disappointment was beaten
into my heart
and that i can trust myself without
everything falling apart
tell me
it’s all just hysterics
no rhyme or reason or blame
and that it hurt him more
than it ever hurt—
and that he left
because he loved me
tell me
tell me
tell me
thank you for reading 🥀
There is nothing hysterical about a soul trying to make sense of the wreckage. Sometimes we spend years begging the past to tell us it was kinder than it was. Beautifully brutal piece.