WHAT’S UP, DEATH?

in poetry •  7 years ago 

let me spend my entire life
running from you
hiding every ounce
of myself

from that inevitable
seemingly forever curtain

let me deny you
play and pretend
around you.

let me repress every ounce
of your beauty
and wisdom.

let me run
forever.

i can hide from you
but only for so long
i can reject
and deny
and cower in fear.

i can do all that until
my lungs
burst
and i collapse.

until i come
face to face
with everything you can teach.

i’ve seen your work
not to me (still alive, bitch)

but, i’ve seen it in other ways
and how the running from you
makes us all dead anyways.

death gives us life.

without you
what would all these moments
mean

if forever were but an object
a plaything

what would these lives be?

you cut us down
and we wallow
in every kind of misery

we lose ourselves
and every piece of us
we cling to.

so we hate you
(i hate you)

but, thank you.
thank you for showing me:

that these lives are beautiful
because they are finite
because they are rich

and our love expands
because of the box you put us in.

i bow to you—
and see you clearly.

800px-GOYA_-_El_aquelarre_(Museo_Lázaro_Galdiano,_Madrid,_1797-98).jpg

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