poetry 2.0

girl and girl

The curtain falls, and I angle my body towards you,

finally reaching for everything I am afraid to hold too close.

Only the night can see our sins now.

judge me, I challenge an invisible audience.

look at me. look at who I am. look at what I've done.

My palms burn your skin. Your dress disintegrates under my fingers

I tell you, again,

I cannot be with you.

I can hold you for now, but

I will not hold you back from the future you deserve,

just because I cannot have mine.

We exist in moments between moments, stolen seconds of another dimension.

I can only cradle your face for so long,

for you burn bright like a planetarium projection,

and I leak shadows on everything I touch.

Like a shameful, shattered record, I recite the same monologue:

this will never work (i am scared) you are too good for me (i am scared) i am sorry (i am scared)

We are both writers,

but you scribble in wild, messy cursive,

love stories sprawled across your bedroom walls, your notebooks,

and your letters, stacked on top of each other.

While I write to escape,

to hide my truths between the lines.

I am a battleground of the people I love and the Hell I fear,

drawn swords, bared teeth and fist fights, bloodbath,

the collision of worlds never meant for coexistence.

I promise I will stop writing my poems about you,

and you say you are done sending letters to my mailbox.

We both know,

the letters will still come.

We both know,

your name is still embedded within each word I write.