Limbo

I'm writing because I haven't

I'm writing because today I looked at the poems

I have written in the last year

and they are all written in blood. 

"I do not love you" is what I whisper

whenever I see him around

because I don't, I can't, I will not

not when he is here and can see my wounds. 

What did I love in you? 

What was it that moved me to give myself

freely and openly

after being locked away for my entire life?

My heart hurts when I think of her

of the one who will eventually fall for you

you will give her sweet words 

that spread sugar over her lips

but when she licks them she'll swallow the poison 

and she'll be gone

gone

gone.