Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

I Don’t Mind If You Forget Me (But I Might Top Myself If You Do)

I fall apart but nobody can tell,

because my mother raised me well,

and I was seeking the stage,

since I could speak,


like a Boy Scout,

I was always prepared.

The show must go on,

after all,


I slip a smile on my face,

tell everyone,

including myself,

that every aching word,

that slips through the veneer,

is just a fairytale,

or part of the brand,

and I’m fine.

Why shouldn’t I be?

I’m alive,

and that’s enough.

I can pay my rent,

and that’s enough.

I never felt fulfilled,

alive or present,

and that’s tough,

but my God,

it could be worse,

and by Juan,

the show must go on.

I am the angelic clown,

tiptoeing across the rafters,

with an array of anxious neckware,

smiling at an audience,

that could be showered in my blood,

at any moment,

but they would be pleased,



because like I said,

it’s all just a fairytale,

part of the brand,

part of the banned list of things,

I swore to my therapist I’d stop thinking about,

with my fingers crossed,

and a sly smile.

My tears are inked,

then sold,

cut price,

I sleep on silk,

and self doubt.

It’s comfier than it sounds,

if I’ve had enough cider,

and if I am beside the man,

who says that he is mine.

When I believe him,

it is like a sedative,

but when I don’t,

I am melting,

missing whole hours of my life,

making eyes at the ceiling,

aching amphetamines,

all around my system,

that I didn’t even see approach me.


The show goes on,

and so do I,

but those sleepless nights,

keep me awake,


and afraid,

during the day.

One thought on “I Don’t Mind If You Forget Me (But I Might Top Myself If You Do)

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