ᴍɪɴɪSᴛƦʏ ᴏҒ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ.©★
A love poem named disaster.
You were there.
You were there as I peeled off my flesh and skin
To reveal the skeleton of the man
You thought you loved.
In seventh grade disaster management,
They taught us about earthquakes,
About the movement of tectonic plates,
About how to save our lives
When the earth beneath our feet slips.
As you stand there watching me crumble
With the ground trembling under me,
I refuse to drop to the floor and cover my head,
There's a certain happiness in dying
When you know that no one's going to cry for you.
Remembrance is overrated.
When her lover left,
My neighbour didn't step out of her home
For twenty-nine days,
People talked in the beginning,
Until they realised that some people are fragile,
They stop being when love is lost.
Twenty-nine days later,
People from the municipality came and broke her door,
She wasn't there.
Her home was empty.
I am empty.
So I look at your eyes as you stand there watching me end.
I have never told anyone about this,
But I heard my neighbour wail
When shoulders repeatedly rammed into the door,
She had been supposed to be there,
But she wasn't.
I'm not crying.
Some people are relieved by the idea of endings,
I am relieved that I wouldn't be there to witness
When no one mourned my death,
That no one will remember me
As the man who had loved and lost,
Relieved, that no one would remember me.