Cedley by Bella Harris
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JasonOn a Tuesday you asked me
to see a movie with you and
this is of particular significance
because I first had my heart broken
on a Tuesday three years ago
and when I cried the sky had
the decency to do the same.
On a Friday you said baby
I love you and I didn’t think you
meant it because you didn’t show
me with the right body parts,
but on a Sunday I believed you
for the first time because you woke
up screaming and you clung to me
for the rest of the night crying
baby don’t go, never go.
On a Monday you warned me
you were too fucked up to hold
onto anything real. You said
you loved me but you knew you
couldn’t keep me. You put me on
a pedestal and nicknamed me
Aphrodite but when I got lonely
and begged you to join me you
claimed you couldn’t drag
yourself up to meet me.
On a Thursday I understood
what you meant. On a Thursday
you fucked a blonde girl named
Rebecca and I don’t know that
it’s relevant, but I haven’t needed
a chaser with my vodka ever since.
The burn after every shot feels
like the only safe way to miss you.
On a Wednesday I realized
that I’ve killed you in every poem
I’ve written you into and you’ve
had it coming every time. I knew
what forever meant and it never
meant us but you were always so
broken that it felt like my burden.
It’s the oldest cliché in the book
but I set myself on fire trying
to light up your way home.
It’s a Saturday now and I’m
remembering that three days
before you fucked Rebecca,
you told me you thought
that you saw me in the sky.
You said you’ve always been
afraid of heights because they
make you want to jump but you
would climb Mount Everest if
it meant you could be closer
to me. For the sake of this poem,
let’s say you made it to the top
and found me there. Let’s say
you jumped anyway.