Member-only story
Don’t Call Me Gorgeous
A poem
You ask me not to stop talking to you.
Then you do just that, to me.
You call me gorgeous,
and then you don’t call at all.
We climbed atop a mountain –
the one in which you left me
peering over the cliffs alone.
Why don’t you just push me over the edge?
You tell me you can’t wait until I’m yours,
but baby,
I never will be.
I close my eyes softly,
wishing your face would dissolve
the way your presence did.
But it won’t.
You reminded me what it felt like
to feel again,
not long before leaving me on empty.
You wished for my better days,
but now your silence speaks louder
than those damn words of yours ever did.
I’m sad.
And there’s no more running in the fields
because the flowers have all died.
The clouds above me pour down their tears,
hopefully masking my own.
