V.3.

for when they ask why

Poetry & Photo by Salma HQ

I cant fucking wait to die.

but I will ...

though the ground is cold and constricting, at least I’ll be held
though my voice would no longer serve purpose, at least I’ll be heard
though i may be tortured forevermore, at least I’ll be addressed
though my family may grieve, at least they’ll finally be at ease

as i disappear
away from all the diagnoses
and leave only the art
dismissed while I was here

see,

why want for money when
darkness is the only way to guarantee
to alleviate all burden of my medical needs

why want for love when
my permanent absence itself holds the keys
to inspire the same growth but still allow you all to heal

if I leave

when I leave

lest my nonchalance deceive
you, I wanted to live
too, I wanted connection
true, I never wanted to leave
YOU

but I will ...
maybe soon,

I whither pound by pound until I’m a dime
one missed plan isn’t a crime
until one day
you ask the sky,
where I’ve vanished to this time
and she’ll reply:

‘she just couldn’t fucking wait to die.’

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