poem: you are a story worth reading to its end / do not tear out your final pages.

water.png

there is the gun

the hand

the trigger finger itching and

the knowing.


you aren’t ready to be the reason your mother dies at forty-one,
and you’re scared that there’s nothing above, below, or in between here and
the place your eyes can’t see.

you’re afraid of judgement

and being a blood stain on the carpet;
the gap in the middle of the classroom (where the good kids sit – sat)
and that –

you’re so afraid of being past tense and a lost tooth and the loose thread in your family’s history.

you’re petrified to the core of dying.

believe this – It knows.

It won’t take you because It knows better than to grant wishes to people who don’t know what they’re even asking for
and when you’re old and satisfied –

It’ll snap your soul in two and carry what’s left to the place you tasted in another life, in some faded, fragrant dream.

believe this –

you are a story worth reading to its end . do not tear out your final pages.

t. bennett

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