who i am and why i'm not (poetry)

liver/daisies

you left your liver

at my place last night.

it fell into the vase

after our fight.

before my eyes

last saw your back,

you said, God, I feel

lighter after that.

daisies grew over it,

claiming your rot.

they stretched and

stretched

right out of their pot.

they bloomed right up

next to my ear,

and laughed and joked

and yelled and sneered;

"your babys no more,

your darlings not here,

how can you love

something that's disappeared"

I cut off their heads and

threw them away,

then cried all night and

dreamed you had stayed.

woke up in the morning,

the sky was all grey.

and the guillotined flowers

had new heads in place.

they stood up tall,

the opposite of me,

and huffed and puffed

all angrily;

"your lover let go

couldn't take

it anymore

why would he

want to love a war?"

I cut off their heads,

ignored their screams.

but is what they said really

true about me?

I tripped into bed and closed

my eyes

and wished the sun would

never rise

but the next day came, time

always prepared.

I wish it would slow down,

maybe braid my hair.

but the flowers were up,

ready,

right there.

i slash their pretty throats,

watch them choke,

sag,

groan.

one survived, surrounded

by dead.

it shook in its roots,

the lonely daisy head.

and it cried and it sang and

it weeped and it begged;

"your heart is all gone.

you're all corrupted.

he needed your love

but only got

your hand.

you couldn't see

past your largeness

of life,

into his eyes, his soul,

his might.

what could've been

and now is never,

a gorgeous bloom,

a tragic end-eavor."

and this time, I left the

little bud unscathed

because it's words

painted me in a dark

blue shade.

I can't seem to organize

my mind anymore.

I thought he was happy but I

never thought more.

it turns out that I am the

terrible thing

and that maybe he was right

to leave.

I gave him nothing, and we

died of thirst.

the water in my palm

slipped past my fingers.

i search my memories for our

last kiss

but find only angry, sad

moments.

did I really ever give

him my love?

did I ever tell him that he was

enough?

God, I feel heavy after

all that.

and I so wish he'd

come take his liver back.

but this parting bouquet of

sorry, too-lates

is all I get

with a heart so black.

if he knocks on my

door again,

wanting

his organ,

I won't keep him a second

longer.

I miss him, what would've been,

but I'll try to be stronger.

I'd tell him I hope his life

is beautiful.

kiss him goodbye,

one last time, for our

memorial.

leave daisies on our caskets

and don't try to mask it.

our love was a plant

that I poisoned,

made toxic.

-V