i am:

the offspring of your sorrow, born
between the ancient ashes of your
aching. i was brought to serve your
suffering; turn you into a tangled
mess of screams and pleads.

the honeysuckle among your gardens
that you feed with whiskey and destroy
with cigarettes; i'm becoming the clouds
you're so afraid to chase, the sunrises
you're so afraid to melt, the streams
you're so afraid to drown in.

your darkest lover, consumed by
the heat of the earth; the earth you
claimed it was mine to keep, the
earth i can't wash away from my
body, the earth which i can't
free myself from.

the last water drop in your jars,
that you throw in the sink, outside
in the streets, that you refuse to
touch but wish to drink.

your world. i'm made of bitter pomelo
juice and old pills, worn-out cassettes
and vintage cars. i've been sleeping
under faded photographs of old
lovers and drunken letters to runaway
fireflies.

i am not:

worthy of you.