ivyparks

i am not strong.
i know that, so stop
trying to make me believe it.

i am not strong,
i am weak.
my coffee brown arms
strain to hold him away.

there are always tears
on my face.
because if you can't

i am sitting in my
science class and
i am falling from the
sky.

it's quite strange being
up here, so high i can't
feel my own heartbeat.

the clouds taste like
a shirley temple, like
cherries, like

the most beautiful poems
i ever wrote were about you.
i've accepted the horrible truth.

letting go of you
is as hard as holding up
the sky, but atlas
could hold the sky,
and i can let you go,

i've always wondered how
it feels to be dead.
does your body still ache
from the sudden nothingness?
or maybe you can't feel "nothing".

does the taste of dirt and 
life stay bitter on your tongue?

i like my poems to
be honest.

but people tell me
honesty is triggering.

so i will write about
flowers and love and summertime
and you will give me praise,
saying i am so creative.

please don't pity me.