You have been in my thoughts
this week, despite the fact
I have forgotten everything
about you:
the particular blue of your eyes,
the shape of your hands when they hold things,
the curve of your lips when you smile,
the warmth of your chest, of your arms,
the touch and taste of your love,
of your good enough.
Perhaps my memory loss
stems from how quickly I lost
each of the above from
the moment you uttered love
in a different direction
and blamed it on my inability
to be enough:
giving you my innocence wrapped in bloody ribbon, wasn’t enough
forgiving you time and time again, wasn’t enough
letting you ogle and touch, wasn’t enough, especially when it was anyone
but me,
writing you thirty one letters so you could fall school-boy-in-love
with another, wasn’t enough
saying sorry
squeezing my eyes shut when your fist met the wall
beside my head (twice)
kissing the cold shoulder you gave me,
letting you have me in sore silence,
eating fish and chips at the side of the road
because your parents’ marriage had failed,
carrying all of this hurt,
letting you add to the wounds
and take pride in the scars,
casting you in the prima donna role,
as the victim,
holding your hand,
picking you up and cradling
you to sleep –
wasn’t enough for me to be enough so I said ‘enough’.
enough, enough, enough.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019
Available internationally
Well said, well penned.
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Thank you Basilike 💛
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