Long day, and I was really stuck. I ended up writing a poem inspired by the recent character death controversy on The 100.
I still taste of you when I turn the page and see your death
in block letters. Isn’t it too soon? You’ve been flirting
with a jagged blade for years but I have only just taken you
into me. If I could I’d keep you, force you back among warm sheets,
but there is no stopping you once you set yourself in motion.
And so you halt not for my hands, but for an ending
meant for me. And now I taste of your black blood, the heavy tang
of the inevitable. I’ve lost so much but losing you
tastes bitter. I draw my tongue across the page, smear the ink.
Your name disappears.