By Afifah Adi
Sleepless nights, sip-ful drinks,
You’re still in the same spot,
Bruised and sore I left you in,
Here I am thinking of a plot,
Whether to draw this knife,
If you so ever move an inch,
Sending you into the afterlife,
And this time without a flinch.
How silly and thoughtful am I,
To prolong this deadly silence,
I don’t even know myself why,
You’re getting into my concerns,
Would it be good if you’re gone,
Or would it be scary waking up,
Knowing you’re no more thrown,
Into this world we both build up.
‘Cause I saw the way your hand,
Once tempted to strike me dead,
Dead I was trying to understand,
It was all meant for me, you said,
If the line had not been crossed,
I would have believed the stares,
But what more of me can I toss,
To bet they were now of care?
So I draw the blade and imagine,
That it’s on your neck instead,
For now I can only allow it clean,
And vow you’ll be painted in red,
Some day when the beep stops,
I promise I’ll allow myself more,
Than just watching liquid drops,
Ending what’s left of me, of yours.
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