For he who does not concern himself with how deeply you pollute my thoughts
When I’m bleeding out and on my last breath, I’ll remember to carve your name indented 3 inches to the left of my draining body so you’ll know I was thinking of you.
Maybe this poem will carry the message beyond the places my wingspan couldn’t
Maybe my love can still overwhelm you in this posthumous delivery
Maybe you’ll take me seriously when you can’t have me or maybe this is what you wanted.
I thought you knew our secrets were safe with me, but securing them 6 feet deep probably helped you sleep better.
I know the Liars taught us that two can only keep a secret if one of them is dead
I know sometimes a love like mine can go straight to your head, but sometimes it seemed like that was all you wanted.
It’s possible you weren’t using me for your carnal pleasures.
That you found me beautiful in the daylight, but I’m uncertain whether your interest
Laid in the skills I displayed with my mouth or in the words that came out
I think sometimes you knew I loved you, and sometimes you knew you could love me back, but imagining life without all of your options triggered a self-entitled heart attack. You don’t need so much of the same thing. I was everything she is and all that she isn’t.
I think sometimes you knew that and it scared you a bit.
For he who wishes not to remember how involved you were in my demise
While I’m bleeding out and on my last breath, I decided to carve your name on my chest. So to let the world know—the undertakers and the audiences who should take me in— I loved you.
For you who refused to embrace your feelings and love yourself enough to stand up for what we knew you needed—me—you will remember I loved you and you only liked “some things about me”.
My cause of death was lack of reciprocity.
Written by Devonne