okay maybe this isnt the worst thing ive ever written seeing as how im revising it

THIS IS SERIOUSLY SO TERRIBLE AND I'M SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING
this poems about my original characters (i wrote about them for our other poetry assignment woah) and they're in a terrible, awful, abusive relationship so warning for gross icky content and also murder. yeah
fun stuff

--

"to noah"

i've been so scared, brother.
i can still hear our father screaming 'no',
still feel his hand, his touch,
hear his voice as he begged, 'don't
do this, please,
don't shoot me,

don't shoot me.'
but you shot him, brother.
he said please,
but you said no.
he bled red roses onto the carpet. i don't
think i can forget the cold, his dead touch.

you have a dead touch
too. your hands are clammy against me,
even when i say 'don't,
i don't want this, brother.'
you never listen when i say no.
not even when i say please.

you say it, too - 'please don't leave me, please stay with me, please.'
you grab my wrist to bruise, your touch
hurts. everything hurts. 'no,'
i promise. 'i won't leave you.' 'never leave me.'
i couldn't leave you if i tried, brother.
and you don't

ever let me try. you don't
give me any sort of control. 'please,
brother,
i don't want to.' yet you touch
me
regardless. 'no' means nothing. 'no'

is just a word to you. 'no'
is not a protest, it's encouragement. 'don't,'
i beg, but you can't hear me.
when i say 'please stop, it hurts, you're hurting me,' all you hear is 'please'.
what burns me most is your touch.
i'm a ghost to you, brother.

no, please
don't touch
me, brother.

--

REVISION

"to noah"

i don't know what kindness feels like anymore.
you touch me gently, but no,
that's not kindness, that's not love.
i don't
think you know what 'love' means. i
think i might hate you.

i didn't always feel this way about you.
i just can't bring myself to pity you anymore.
i
remember holding your hand in the hospital, wishing for you not to die. but now? no,
i want to see you rot. you don't
deserve my love. you don't deserve any love.

you talk of love
as though you
understand it. you don't.
you say my love is why you don't harm yourself anymore.
i want to tell you, 'no,
love is not what i feel. i

feel pity, obligation, fear. i
don't know how to escape you.' your love
is a pestilence, a disease that clogs your ears. you don't hear me when i beg, 'no'.
i think the only things you
hear anymore
are the thoughts you want to hear. i don't

want to know what you've done. i don't
want to know what you think about doing. i
can't recognize myself anymore,
thanks to your love.
you
look at me and say i'm beautiful. i look at myself and say, 'no,

you are not his property. no,
you don't
belong to him. you
don't owe him anything.' i
wish i could believe myself. i don't think i could love
anything anymore.

no, i
don't love
you anymore.