The Necklace

He told me to throw away the necklace he gave me-

a sapphire stone set in a diamond frame,

because I had forgotten it.

I reduced a token of our love to: What necklace?

 

He told me to throw away the necklace he gave me,

because it no longer represented anything nice.

He used to like how it brought the blue in my eyes out.

I pictured the necklace as a cold iris set in a diamond socket.

 

He told me to throw away the necklace he gave me,

because it no longer represented anything nice.

What if I no longer represented anything nice?

What should I do then?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©Katie Thompson, 2018

I Love You

I whispered as I was leaving.

I waited, I willed those three tiny words

to escape from your lips.

You gave me silence. Oh, how it echoes

through my cavernous heart,

which is caving in and collapsing on itself.

 

 

©Katie Thompson, 2018

 

You Never Happened

I couldn’t care less what you have to say,

it would all just be empty words to me anyway.

What did I expect, a prince in shining armor?

You wore Spider-man converse, drove a cube car.

I don’t understand those who prefer to wear a mask,

but your true self has been revealed to me at last.

Good bye. Good luck. I’ll never speak of you again.

I’ve already forgotten- it’s like you never happened.

© Katie Thompson, 2016

Empty

empty-chest

I’ll marinade my liver in Captain Morgan each night,

and drown the naive girl inside of me while I’m at it.

No soda- I chase nothing. The liquid comfort will burn

as it slides down my throat and resentment will churn

in my gut until I froth at the mouth, spit fire

at any who dare approach me. Dragon lady. Bitch.

Call me what you will, but find another lover’s heart to invade,

the quest to possess mine is fruitless. Even if you suffer

through Dante’s seven rings of inferno, you will find

nothing more than an empty chest for bounty.

©Katie Thompson, 2016

The Person I Used to Be

I might as well have sent you a loaded gun,

with a note that read: Go ahead.

Look in the mirror and pull the trigger.

I know the thought has crossed your mind.

 

If only you could know me as I am now,

a woman humbled by bad decisions and worse men.

If we’d only said what needed to be said, nothing more,

I wonder what the outcome would be.

 

That poem I wrote to hurt you so many years ago

revealed more about the poet

-the person I used to be-

than it did about the boy who wronged her.

 

Time and distance have shattered the illusion

that the person I was, is all I’ll ever be.

Thank God, thank the universe, there’s hope for us both!

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

 

 

 

©Katie Thompson, 2016

An Oldie

Fire

blue_fire_eye_by_nithilien

I have an insatiable fire inside of me,

it burns blue and boils my blood,

hungers for fuel: answers, explanations.

The flames flicker up, licking the edges

of books, lectures, poems- engulfing them whole.

Then they smolder in a state of exhaustion.

The fire is omnipresent, never satiated,

just when I think it is being smothered, it rises

from the ash like an immortal Pheonix.

The fire is a gift and a burden,

which I am not sure I can shoulder.

Still, it burns me from the inside.

Until one day, I fear:

there will be nothing left

to burn.

 

 

©Katie Thompson, 2014

Pity (1st draft)

Heed the man who keep crazy company.

Perhaps they did not arrive in that state.

Please, do not waste your cheap pity on me.

 

Go ahead, sleep with me again tonight,

break me down to nothing- it’s what I want.

What’s one more chip in my marble façade?

 

I’ll remember you as you were to me,

not the likeness she painted in venom.

Please, do not waste your cheap pity on me.

 

walk away, pour salt in the open wound.

If it burns like hell, I’ll know it was love.

What’s one more crack in my marble façade?

 

Don’t mourn what’s passed, celebrate what’s to come.

Lay your baggage to rest at the door

and please, do not waste your pity on me.

 

Do not worry where I will go from here,

but of the work you have ahead, my dear.

Please, do not waste all your pity on me.

What’s one more crack in my marble façade?