The Story Ends by Kira Kapelusznik

I thought I was running to a cure but every time I run to you.

A sick child, I open my mouth in trust

and you pour in poison.

I can’t pretend that I didn’t always know

that you’d make me patch up my own wounds.

You let yourself bleed all over my bed

because you refused to see your own pain.

Your hurt bleeding into mine,

your moms distance and my moms maliciousness.

They fight it out in the ring through us as humble puppets.

I count your scars instead of sheep.

The warmth of your skin makes me forget

about the coldness in your heart

and I don’t pray to forget you

but I do hope that I can stop loving you

soon.

I hand you flowers and you’re used to knives.

The only thing left is to leave.

The story ends and the sun on my skin

reminds me of compassion.

Unconditional love shouldn’t feel like

letting parts of myself die just so that I can’t feel them.