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Poetry

This Love Kills Me

It’s difficult to give so much of yourself to another person, you forget about yourself. Their happiness and well-being becomes your happiness and well-being, except some people, don’t recognize this love. They don’t realize how much of yourself you’ve given them because they didn’t give themselves to you to begin with. This poem is about unhealthy love, one that makes you sick, makes you hurt and makes you blind to how self-destructive you’ve become. My inspiration came from the struggles of a close friend, who I hope escapes this vicious cycle.

This Love Is Sickness

You see my veins shake at your touch

The power to move my blood at your will

Can I escape the burning fire that you are?

Or will I fall apart in the flames

I can’t be what you need

With veins that pop and eyes that bleed

I ate flowers to be the beautiful thing you wanted

But I didn’t see the way your sickness invaded my body

Creeping between my legs, through my lungs, my heart, my mind

I covered my eyes, made myself blind

Yet, I still wanted to drown myself in the sea of emotion your eyes guaranteed

Until I couldn’t come up for air because I was so consumed in your waves

I had never been so happy, to sink to fall, to lose all sense even as it killed me

I still wanted us to be so intertwined that I couldn’t tell where you began and I ended

It’s funny how people only say ‘you will always have a place in my heart’

When their halfway out the door with that piece of you in their hands

I am blue waves against your red rootlike veins

And I bleed for days

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Aspiring journalist, Latina woman, and film lover trying to stomp the patriarchy with my large combat boots.

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