Do not tell me what I was
to redraw that cold war face,
to see a woman of what I bleed;
tinsel sits in a box made for winter
(please stop—I’m mad—please stop
telling me to be strong)
untouched like you.
I, Prometheus, [I am not]
I want to shackle your humanity
to dread; and I, I don’t want to see
my mother’s ghost.
I want you to stop—
stop, just stop, telling me—
I sit on the shelf
liquor dancing to her tombs.
© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the 12/13/2021 dVerse prompt.
I wrote two quadrilles at the cost of one (does that make sense? It sounded much better in my head). Lot’s of personal feelings in this, honestly fucking sick of the phrase “be strong” or “stay strong” in light of hardship.
No thank you. I want to be weak once in awhile and let someone else be strong for me for once. I wrote this for me, but anyone who can resonate with it, I hope it provides some comfort.