“Un-Love”

I was supposed to un-love.

Rather to hate—

to be nonchalant, to scoff, to not want.

I wanted so much

to hate,to hate, to hate…

but fate above

pounds a syncopated rhythm,

more like

a prison…

still stinging

still clinging

to my blood.

In dreams that stretch—

an edge,

a reach,

a touch.

Never,

never, never enough.

I swore

to wear indifference like armour

at my breast,

to fear, to sneer,

to starve the need

that would not let me rest.

I vowed to hate…

and to learn the butcher’s art,

hacking love from my heart.

I wake with teeth marks

on my tongue

from biting back that name…

the sheets,

a salted sea of sweat my pulse,

a maze of flames.

I was supposed to close the book,

be done.

Yet each page I burn

bleeds ink that will not run.

So here I am —

callous,

with cinders in my heart

roughly shoved —

for as long as there is time and space,

I cannot un—love.