Asking me why I don’t stay.
Honey I’m afraid.
If I give my heart away it might break again.
And I’m already on the mend.
Can’t play pretend, I know how this’ll end.
I don’t wanna hurt you.
But hurt people, hurt people and I know that’s true.
Weaponized all the pain someone else put me through.
Firing every shot meant for them at you.
Old scars opening new wounds.
Leaving us both confused, wondering “what did I do?”
Locking eyes, traumatized, questioning “who are you?”
It isn’t right that you pay the price for someone else’s mistakes.
They aren’t even here and I’m still their slave.
Psychological warfare and gladiatorial games.
Well aware there’s nothing to gain from misguided rage.
So I put my love on a curfew.
To ensure I’d never hurt you.
It was the only way to make you bulletproof.
So if I shoot and it ricochets, I’ll feel the pain too.
A Love Forboding
The chipped stone slope caused unbearable footing. I slid, skirting on my heels. I cast my shield, relinquishing my guard to stay upright. Left with my double-edge and a prayer to the maker, I skated toward my objective. The earthly stubble gave way to solid ground. I found myself restored, a trail of dust in my wake.
By James U. Rizzi6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
"So if I shoot and it ricochets, I’ll feel the pain too." I have mixed feelings about your poem because it's filled with love but also torture. I like trying to make my way through the conflict though.