I breathe the memories in like smoke,
Soothing an addiction I didn’t know I had,
And I know that this is a trap, one that I set for myself,
I don’t know if it’s borne by masochism or fear,
My heart tells me it’s love, but I’m not fooled,
You can’t miss something you never had,
But the lie is sweet, cloying, and I tell myself it’s true.
My fingers are stained with lead as I sketch,
A self-portrait, much too beautiful to be realistic,
I make myself a pillar, remind myself they’re hard to break
But they’re protected by museum walls and admiration,
Really my skin is much too soft for stone,
My curves much too tempting for the salivating dogs,
And my feelings too liquid, even I can’t contain them.
I’m only human and slave to temptations of the flesh,
So I let your words surround me like a hungry predator,
Feel desire run down my spine towards my core,
Let my heart tell me it’s love as I expose myself,
And it doesn’t matter that you could never make me come,
Because the memory of your desire is headier,
Pushing me off the edge until all that’s left of my sanity is a ghost.
My dear, let me haunt you, in your dreams, in the waking sun,
In the beds of strangers that devour you like sirens,
Maybe you don’t like feeling hollow but you’re not a victim,
You seek it out like treasure, swallow it down like medicine,
You don’t realise your disease is transmitted sexually,
And I can’t feed of other people’s love to cure myself,
I’m not you, I don’t even want to be you, I just want to know,
Why me? Was I just that easy? Just that desperate? Or just that unlucky?
Maybe it was just the thrill of the challenge;
You thought I was strong, and maybe I once was,
But I can’t walk away without walking in a circle,
I’m my own worst enemy, you’re only the bait, the prize,
But I never had you and I never will, not in a way that matters,
It’s hard to remind myself I never even wanted you.
So tell me you love me again, my dear,
If you’re going to break me, make sure it’s thorough.
© Richela Rosales Maroto 2018