HERE / let me tell you a story / about a boy / about a girl / about both / let me weave for you this story of heartbreak / of how they try to slay their demons / only to find / that the demons / are inside of them.
THE GIRL IS SO FUCKING TIRED / every second of every day / her mind is cluttered / a jumble of thoughts and ideas that do not belong to her / she is a patchwork girl.
THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM THE VOICES / (the voice of the tv announcer saying, 'lighter is brighter.') / (the voice of the boy she loved saying, 'it's not me, it's you.') / (the voice of her mother saying, 'oh, darling, all you have to do is get married. Everything will work out once you're married.') / her brain became / so stuffed with fragments of other people / that now she can hardly tell / which voice is her own.
(This is what the world did: it took her voice away and now she is a silent girl; a good girl.)
THE BOY DIED LONG AGO / and in his wake he left a trail of white lilies / he was a soft boy / a good boy / a boy made from velvet and silk.
NOBODY COULD HAVE EVER GUESSED / that this soft boy / this good boy / made a silk rope out of his flesh / and hung himself with it.
(The thing about soft boys: they cannot exist in this damned world. The wolves will eat them alive.)
THE END
(WHAT? / don't tell me you don't like this story / what else did you expect? / did you think that this would have a happy ending? / life is not kind / so why should I be?)
(alternative title: go ahead, make me your metaphor)
YOU ARE READING
Kiss Me, Kill Me
Poetry"HE is my morning star." In which I attempt to write something meaningful. [#381 in Poetry 11.10.16]
