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a rock, a wall, and a hard place in the island of me

this heartache is not for you from me
take back your arrows, shoot them
at other fish in the sea
row your boat to some other shore
i won’t even miss the me
you wrote about, placed in a bottle
set adrift in the waves,
i’ll unwrite it, retell it,
years from now, or moments from now
(im not really sure)
my soul will be read by fingertips
tracing the cold, damp stones in the caves
i wait within, delicate skin a veil
over crumbling stone – but know
the ones ive collected ive chosen
and aren’t the ones nobody else has thrown

____
backdated post a day poem for October 7th, 2017

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