february 8th
my grandmother
she will die in a year i think,
and all the sadness in me comes out as tears
when everyone is asleep
i think if i cry every hour at night
somehow I'll be ready by that time
and it's been ten days and my heart
is like a pulp, my eyes are itchy again
and yet im not ready
can i ever get ready to not see her body walking through my room?
to never hear her talk to herself in her room?
to never see her face
i thought i didn't love her
and it didn't hurt much when i
imagined her dead a hundred times.
why does it now?
she was just there all day in her room
never even cared for us
and i haven't heard one real thing from her for years
like strangers we slept in beds separated by wall
and yet it hurts so much
i think people should never love people
or even stay together
YOU ARE READING
about a queen
Poetrywhere she writes about people or places or incidents that influence her in unique ways or just makes her bitter and make her think, in a way shaping her.
