stab me in the back

love is the slowest death

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the love letters don’t flow to the page the way they used to,

my cursive writing articulating the beauty of your smile,

the ink from the pen danced across the page,

like we used to dance to our favorite songs.

now the sadness bleeds out of my pen,

from the wounds you cut deep into my heart.

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not when i see your face in the clouds,

and i hear your laugh in the wind,

haunted by the ghost of you,

reaching for the shadows of our memories.

---

a prisoner of our songs, our jokes, our laughs,

caged by the promise that someday i’ll find my wings,

staring at the coffin of our love,

the stained glass turning my tears every hue,

the bells in the chapel ringing out the sound of our storms.

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our love flies to farthest stars

dives to the deepest oceans,

i would fight dragons with you,

if only you would fight for my heart.

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i desperately comb through novels and diaries,

only to find my name in the footnotes.

my pen memorized your name,

written at the top of every page.

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you’ve buried my soul so deep into the ground,

the only one who can dig me out of my grave,

is the one who won’t pick up the shovel.

the only one who can save the princess,

is the one who picked up the sword to stab her in the back,

while he should have been holding her hand.

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of all the ways to kill the one you love,

why did you never love me enough?

i fought wars and battles in my mind for you,

and you never looked up from your newspaper.

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and when my battles bled to the paper, you turned the page,

if you won’t read and you won’t fight,

then i can run and i can write.

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the pen is mightier than the sword,

only if someone will read the words.

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