24/2/2024

 12:30am, Saturday

24/2/2024

-
when they ask me,
'would i ever love?'
with disdain, i reply,
"i could never, oh no.
an act so sinful? i shan't
spiral into such depravity."
(when the final flickers
of light are blown out,
i clutch at my heart, pained.
the longing within my bereaved heart
bubbles up in my lungs.)

when they ask me,
'what does love mean to you?'
i scoff, and answer,
"hah, an act as foolish as that?
it is nothing but a joke
uttered in the midst
of cans of soda in the twilight shine-
nothing short of make-believe."
(i lie in the grass,
feeling it prickle at my back.
my mind bleeds and blends
with the thorns that my futile obsession
has sprung up and nurtured.
and something bitter, salty
pricks at the crow's feet
who sits on my shoulder.)

when they ask me,
'is there someone you love?'
i chortle, and say,
"my, i couldn't ever,
what use are such trivial feelings
directed to someone
who doesn't deserve the least of them?"
(i clutch a faded, yellowed picture
nearly crumpling it in my grasp;
furiously, gently, muttering
garbled 'thank you's' and 'sorry's'.
i pluck a few young sprouts
of cedar leaves from my fingertips,
and press them between
fragrant, worn pages,
hands trembling yet gentle,
as though caressing a prayer.)

"my heart knows no love."
(yet it aches with the burn of it.)