— a poem of potpourris.

I Know This Much Is True.

The sooner you admit it, the better. Don’t forget, you’re someone’s pain too.

Photo by Artem Labunsky on Unsplash

I could fill
every gap existing in between
ousting what once was
without you even noticing any difference.

I could be
the prettiest marionette
pirouetting my days away in a stage
a subject of your viewing pleasure.

I could be
all the answer to your prayer,
your last tango in Paris,
even the ease to your nightmares.

For a moment you’ll forget
that I’m what the devil sent
to toy with your strings; slowly cutting, over the years
as I send your lustful self to the stars.

Yet here I am;
Every atom
you need and hate
all at once.