Poems

44.

The worst words I'd ever heard,
like out of the dreams of poets-
the ones they had at night
when they were wide awake,
when they just couldn't sleep,
when they screamed into voids
of the undying love that filled them,
tearing their hearts apart,
spilling from their seams onto paper,
because they couldn't help themselves,
because they were in love,
because they were hopeless romantics,
because they were delusional,
because they were liars.

The most loving words,
said in the most malicious way,
telling me he loves me,
as if an accusation,
that  he couldn't leave me,
as if handcuffed to me against will,
that he can't live without me,
as if I'd taken the air from his lungs,
telling me he loves me,
like a slap across the face.