talking about me
poem by Chris Taylor
i have to keep on,
stay glued to the ceiling,
mechanical,
security camera observes
as they move on from me and my voice,
i hear you talking
about me, my last will and
testament,
recording my final words
to bury with my body, playing on repeat.
if you knew how i felt
before my gravity reversed, what
would you
have done? deliquesce
into the popcorn paint, and fall away?
for your sake, i’ll stay a consumer
of your unintended
entertainment,
preserve your spoken tears and
play them back if i get bored,
i hope you miss me less than
i miss you, i can’t think i
made a mistake,
i hope my letter satiates in
ways i couldn’t have,
i would tell you i love you
if it wouldn’t make it worse,
i don’t want it to
hurt more than it should,
i’ll keep taunting myself, watching,
everything you said to me
before i ended up here is
another piece
of tape on my back, pulling
out my hair as i’m congealing,
on the ceiling still with battery
running out, but you keep talking,
talking about me,
i don’t want to miss out on all the
things you never said to my face.
Chris Taylor is a young writer who creates poetry as a coping mechanism, sharing it as a way to connect with others. In their spare time, they enjoy spending time around dogs, family, and listening to electronic and alternative music.
