The story of this poem: It’s a revision of one I wrote a while back; I was experiencing some low self-esteem around my romantic prospects. Things are better now.
DO NOT LOVE ME Please, do not love me. My ribs were not made with hinges. If you crack me and release my heart, It happens with violence. You leave a body spatchcocked, Sternum untidily unlocked, Closer than ever before To the two-dimensional world. One thing’s for sure: I cannot be your girl. Please, do not love me. My bones forget form as they melt for you. I am no garden snail, I grow no shell that holds me true. Your devotion leaves me softened in the rain, Leaves me crawling for you so often That it cannot be healthy, Cannot be something for my gain. Please, do not love me. Do not force me to use The parachute on my back, (Something close to wings) The one I keep unfurling and packing, Unfurling and packing. There is no testing my seams, Only trusting and release, Defense and attack, Dry land and the seas. Do not love me, please. I am origami tissue, My skin will not forget where fingers touch. I will show it all, Whether you crumple me Or treat me as a bird, Delicate among the rough. Please, do not love me, Unless you pledge To take each drop of my blood And refill my yearning veins with yours, Unless you press my ear to your chest Just so I can hear the roaring waves, Unless you know That the moon does not show its face When you do not sleep next to me, Unless my cool breath is what you crave. Do what you must, Just, please, do not love me.
Thank you so much for reading my work.
See you next week.
