Don’t Fear the Reaper
My feet are cold,
toes holding the numb drum of my heartbeat,
and ankles like a plastic paperweight -
closer to the floor than my friends;
affection like an unmoving hourglass.
Time’s running out between the moments
of family and the cold war of strangers,
Do I mummify?
Please spare my legs and my hands and my head and my arms,
But take the heart if you must - its already empty enough.
It looks fitting, crushed between your hands;
like it belongs in this liquid state -
I'd like to say I told you so,
But our silence hangs heavy like an unbalanced weight.
I am mad, in a vacant sort of way, alone in these empty lands.
Sunning myself, belly up,
Like a cat sacrificing safety for the sake of satisfaction.
But I'm mostly unsurprised.
Awaiting this moment for years like an aged man facing death;
It would happen sooner or later.
I'd like to hold on to the singular grains of sand,
like seeds rupturing under the pregnant sun to form new life;
Life to grow and live and die.
My hands drip with salt and heat;
The bitter tang heavy, settling on my tongue with each open-mouthed breath,
And my muscles stiff in their quivering bone boxes --
Clutch me in your talons and gouge out my empty heart.
Please store it somewhere warm and dry.
I'll need it once more.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
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My poem is about a loss of friendship, and the impact of this loss on the persona. The loss resonates so painfully with the persona due to it's one sided nature. Her despair at the termination of the friendship isn't shared by the friend, who is oblivious despite all good intentions. She is unable to truly be mad at her friend because ultimately the friend is so unaware of the loss she is feeling.