I want to break your heart, to see who it hurts more.
For you to feel, or for me to do?
I want to snap it in two, just to see
if the blood that leaks from the muscle
is Pink? The sweet roses, the colour of love.
from each time, I’ve choked the life from it.
I want you to bruise my veins
to see which pain is greater
The physical touch?
the hands I hold- so tenderly –
crushing my skin and leaving marks.
Bruised Black, the lifeless, the inevitable.
Bruised Purple, the swelling, the universe end –
A milky way of hate, spanning wrist to wrist.
A battle I won’t try to win.
Or the image- the impact –
of your eyes burning
Red, the fury, the fire
a searing flame in the pain
a heat between us, missing for months,
but we’ve ignited it here, and now.
I want to lay us to rest.
A procession of guilt, of regret.
Our guests will come donned in
Grey, the dreary, the bleak,
the feelings we birthed together.
Children of misery and hate,
conceived within the walls we built between us.
A whole hearse filled with hurt.
And once the mourning is over, we’ll separate –
walk from under the storm,
to the bright, the new.
The Yellow, hope, and Orange, warmth.
The sky a new kind of Blue.
“Now, he notices only my absence, the things I have not done: a thin layer of dust in the hallway, an unprepared meal in the pantry. I’ve started abandoning tasks just to see if he notices, the calculated neglect like a beam from a distant lighthouse.”