DEATH Poem: The Rot Sinks In, by Jeannine Contreras

I tell her I want a comrade.
She tells me she wants a girlfriend.
This will be why the relationship ends.
As per usual I am struggling to get her to understand.
As per usual she is as well.
We’ve been bickering just like our parents do.

She asks me about the future.
I tell her I just want a friend.
She cries in the dark these days.
I’ve taught her how to do that.
Much to my regret.

The worst thing about everything isn’t the end.
That will be a clean, cut pain.
An incision to save healthy skin.
It’s the rotting that hurts the most.
The slow decline into death.
We tried to graft healthy skin onto our wounds.
But there’s only so much you can do before you accept the truth.
Sometimes things rot no matter what you do.

Author: poetryfest

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