written by: Camille Elizabeth Lewis
I no longer accept compliments on being strong
You haven’t tried not giving me reasons to be.
With one careless hand, I screw up the paper
You wrote this worthless platitude on
Throw it in the waste-paper basket. It lands!
There. Now you can simply compliment me on my aim
There was a time I would have held onto it so hard it left a mark.
No, really, this knife in my side doesn’t hurt at all. I’m fine!
If the blood is bothering you, I can lick it up
Smile at you through reddened teeth.
As I die slowly from blood loss, I apologise for:
Being inattentive. Staining your best shirt. Wasting a good knife.
(Although I suspect you’ll use it again)
The last thing I see is a doe-eyed, fresh-faced mini-me.
I try to tell her how sorry I am that I couldn’t do better
Be better, do all the things she wanted
She holds out a small sweaty palm
Motions for me to come home.
Camille Elizabeth Lewis
Latest posts by Camille Elizabeth Lewis (see all)
- Disorganised Attachment - August 27, 2021
- Gold - June 3, 2021