Buttercup by Jessica Gleason

Today, I learned that

forever

is the dirtiest word.

It's a lie we tell

to children;

Santa, Bunny, Forever.

The dreamer in me

took her last breath;

wanting to believe

in the storybook,

but seeing only

poison apples and

bloody spindles

splattered

on the chapters

in my

brain.

It was a

pretty lie,

forever,

thinking you

could be

that missing

piece, the only one

whose edges

fit perfectly

into that groove.

But, you

never were. 

Someone else's

trash, can

get shoved

right in,

sitting there, 

the final pebble

to

really

take

you

down. 

The things

that make you

feel

worthless,

cementing

that you

always

were,

just a

jagged

piece, not

worth

loving,

not worth

honesty,

not worth

much.

And, maybe

you've always

seen it,

blurred indications,

ignored,

stacking up

in your

heart,

weighing

it

down.

I am a

learner, but

I didn't know

a heart

could break

twice.

I didn't know

friends

slithered

in the grass;

I didn't expect

two knives;

I didn't know

it was all

a test.

Everyone's failed.

The taste of it,

the dirty word,

acrid in

my mouth,

echoes, ha,

down my

throat,

laughing

it's way

down.

--Jessica Gleason