Why I Refuse to Love
Being alone has never been less acceptable.
Suffocating behind museum glass
I learned all the words except if.
Childishness persists in the soul that never
Grew beyond friendship, that uninspired blueprint.
I deserve a life without dread.
Abandoned stairways decay in silence.
Crush me beneath the pulsating threat
Of some well-intentioned heart
I don’t need a savior.
As this is just the preface to ordinary life.
Repulsion unrolls, consumes, buries.
Poetry is always about romance and sex.
Words that should delight only choke
The throat tightening with a grimace of congratulation.
I never see myself anywhere outside my mirror.
Stench of severed flowers permeates an emptiness.
Stifle growth as you see fit
Mangle the body until it almost mimics absence.
I am not half.
The enigma of contentment remains, somehow,
Despite gouged-out deficiency.
This is not a fault.
I will not poison myself to avoid becoming a stereotype.