I wish I could bury everything inside of me like you,
It’s as if you digged a hole inside you,
where you throw every memory,
every tear unfallen, every thought, every pain,
but also every effort and courage
and bury it with all your organs;
it’s as if all your strength, the strength you’re born with
you just use it to shovel all that goes in and out and through you.
And after a while, all of what you buried starts to decompose,
it stinks, like the odor of a rotten corpse;
everything rots.
And the smell starts traveling through your pores,
and you hide it with the smoke of weed,
but it shows anyway,
and the smile of your face says beautiful, but it’s broken,
and your eyes scream help,
and your soul hides in the corner where things like want and able and trauma hide,
to perform in your dreams;
but you smoke and trip anyway.
And you say that you’ll die in a few years from now,
but all the weight of that corpse inside of a corpse
says to me that you’ll live,
you’re still alive,
after all the flowers I pressed to your heart
and I couldn’t save.