Hallmark Card

When I die, be it young or old….
Will a collection of my former lovers gather in a room much like this one?
Will they bring Hallmark Cards and say kind words about my beauty, my compassion, my affection?
Will they preach about my vivaciousness, tell humorous anecdotes, or point out my best assets?
My ego would like that.
But my vulnerable, evil, shoulder chip monkey would like you to say something else.
Like how I pined and processed over each and every one of you.
That you took a piece of who I was, that you raped my existence for a short time anyways, that all the beauty within me wasn’t enough for any of you, that my mouth spoke words you didn’t want to hear, refused to hear.
Would you admit that you led me to the river only to drown me in it……and then washed your hands clean?
When the roses are placed around my grave, I hope you feel the thorns impale your fingers, because the drop of blood you release belongs to me.
And when the tears are shed and blankets of snow cover my grave, will the ghost of me haunt you?
The way all of your insincere comments, misplaced feelings, lost sexual acts of false passion, and fear of intimacy haunted me.
The invisible chains still bound to me, the invisible rope still in my mouth, preventing me from speaking the truth.
Maybe you should all just say nothing.
You’ve already said enough. 


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