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bless me not with an anesthesia
when you cut me open,
don't put me to sleep as it's done
slice from atop my sternum
all the way to my navel.
i beg of you, for my last wish, please
do me the favor of moving my heart
out of the way of my lungs
so i can breathe at ease,
now that the swelling of my heart
literally makes breathing difficult.
no experienced surgeon will do -
holding the scalpel in unsteady hands,
i want it to be you
so i can feel physically
the damage i did to you,
up close and personal.
pain at your hand now
would be bliss
if it made you smile
at all
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
