poetry for the poetic: 5

XCVI

some days i am death threat and
others i am apology poem.
you were a rose and some days
i remember your softness but others
all i can think of are the thorns.
i want to see this in something other
than black and white but in my memory
there is no shared responsibility,
only killer and killed, only one
bloody body on the ground.

i want you beside me and yet i
never want you to touch me again.
i want you to whisper the pretty things to me again
but every word from your mouth makes me sick.

i want you back but i know
you haven't changed.
i haven't changed either.