Beverly Tan
In my heart you turn over
As if it were a grave
And I, an abomination.
The clock is riddled
With the stitches of
My former occupations,
Those great loves which
In passing are unspoken,
Forgotten by all save the lost.
–
I have seen you in his arms
Spilling over with laughter
Desperate, as if love were
Only sweet when absent.
If I had been colder, perhaps,
You would have held me,
An impudent fire
Threatening to evaporate
The frost in my mangled veins.
–
Now that you have become me
I have no pity for you at all,
Only foreboding for what is
Invariably to come. Believe me
I would not see you broken,
Though I have no right
To determine the nature of your mistakes.
It really is impossible
This loving business, it requires
Almost nothing to incite
But takes everything on collapse.
mindlovemisery 