lessons in loving a

you will never learn and he will never listen. you will always be a package waiting second in line from the rotation of the 29th conveyor belt in a foreign airport. when he unwraps you on a sunday morning you will be a tangle of pocket lint with edged corners and a whetted core. you will be a mess of memory and ruptured scars, your receipt number will be within crumpled limbs of paper but he will not know what he paid for. you will remember his face and his address amongst the post and he will forget to remember the last four digits of your number. he will care too much, and love too little. he will piece your washed, worn words together, bit by bit. you will fall in love with him, and he will not with you. you will struggle to find missing pieces still churning in the next batch of recollection, he will dull your edges with his skin and he will bleed when he forgets your disclaimers and goes too close. you will be sorry but he will keep going and obstinance is a luggage tag waiting to be ripped off. five months later he will leave you out on the doorstep to be taken but you will keep coming back. you will leave his name and his number on the side of your neck, engraved faintly in the constant reminders of his lips. you will be too much of being too little; you will be an overwhelming admonition of bleeding wounds; you will be a brimming apol-apo-apo-p-apology and he will not be able to handle all the things you have done wrong. you will be an overflowing suitcase of thoughts and memories and insecurities and he will regret you, just like you said he would when he first picked you up, just like he promised not to. you will keep coming back and coming back and back and back and back and he will put your lumbering weight on a plane to paris and he will forget to collect you from the conveyor belt.

–––––

so i couldn’t decide whether to write this in poetry or prose form, so here’s both. i’m not sure which one i prefer. on a side note, i’m supposed to be preparing for imunc now but it’s stressing me out too much so here’s my distraction.

–––––

you will never learn
and he will never listen.
you will always be a package waiting
second in line from the rotation
of the 29th conveyor belt in a foreign airport.

when he unwraps you on a sunday morning
you will be a tangle of pocket lint
with edged corners and a whetted core.
you will be a mess of memory and ruptured scars,
your receipt number will be within crumpled limbs of paper
but he will not know what he paid for.

you will remember his face
and his address amongst the post
and he will forget to remember
the last four digits of your number.

he will care too much,
and love too little.

he will piece your washed, worn words together,
bit by bit.
you will fall in love with him,
and he will not with you.

you will struggle to find missing pieces
still churning in the next batch of recollection,
he will dull your edges with his skin
and he will bleed when he forgets your disclaimers
and goes too close.

you will be sorry
but he will keep going
and obstinance is a luggage tag
waiting to be ripped off.

five months later
he will leave you out on the doorstep
to be taken
but you will keep coming back.

you will leave his name and his number
on the side of your neck,
engraved faintly
in the constant reminders of his lips.

you will be too much
of being too little;
you will be an overwhelming
admonition of bleeding wounds;
you will be a brimming apol-apo-apo-p-apology
and he will not be able to handle
all the things you have done wrong.

you will be an overflowing suitcase
of thoughts and memories and insecurities
and he will regret you,
just like you said he would
when he first picked you up,
just like he promised not to.

you will keep coming back
and coming back
and back and back and back
and he will put your lumbering weight
on a plane to paris
and he will forget
to collect you
from the conveyor belt.

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