I had seen you die a thousand deaths before I loved you
You hated the texture of your thoughts;
cursing your mind for being too alive.
Haunted by awareness,
you bled from its cruelty
as you gifted the air with ragged breathes, wrenched from your corrupted lungs,
and I knew, then, with a sinking desperation in my heart,
that you have, for too long now, forgotten how to cry.
So I will teach you;
cry for you
for I am the slow, corrosive kind of devastation that crawls under your skin
and kisses you.
Watching you try to piece together the world into something coherent,
increasingly maddened by its non-conformity and utter bullshit
Hollow. Hollow. Hollow. You were too busy screaming that your insides felt so hollow
to hear me say
– the saddest plea I have ever voiced,
made worse by its utterance to the vacant air
because, Precious, that day, I learnt the taste of your 1000th goodbye
and it was so bitter,
it tasted like mine.
You say that life is a slow death
But you forget that
there exists solace in the chaos
And then, Rebirth.
So when you live again,
I will whisper, tenderly, the only truth I know:
that you are a hurricane wreaking havoc to my insides;
that I am the hemlock nobody forced you to take;
that there can be an unutterable beauty
in feeling at peace with the pain;
that you have seen me die a thousand deaths too many
you will learn to love me
I am growing tired of waiting to love you.