Please Don’t Leave the Room

I’m thinking it, but somehow I just can’t say it. I can reach for you; I can hold your hand. But I can’t say those words. You have an appointment. Maybe even a very important one. But you have to realize that this is more important: it’s a matter of life and death. If I can realize it, you can too. Or maybe you have to learn it. This is the first time, but it won’t be the last.

You are on your way somewhere else, going out, for that thing you have to do. You think I’m not feeling great, but I’ll be okay, like I usually am after a while. You let go of my hand, edge toward the door so you can put on your jacket.

What happens if you leave?

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It’s Your Fault That I’m Still Alive

Have you ever wanted to die, but didn’t want to hurt the people you love? I know that feeling very well. I once had a conversation with a friend in which I accused her of forcing me to stay alive, simply by caring about me. This poem focuses on the connections that anchor us to life (whether we want them to or not).

 

Like a tree, I stand in place
My branches are burning
But my roots hold me down
So that I cannot run from the flames
No one else knows what it’s like to be a tree on fire
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