Artwork by Pavlina Bargili

I will tie all my memories of you to a cross and sacrifice them to my worst nightmares.

I will wash off the stamps of your fingers with rainwater
I have these unseen, inward scars,
You see, with you I’ve swallowed my pride and now
it clawed its way back brutally snatching
every piece of you from me.
I now have my blood on my hands.

Remember?
You pierced my side with a broken promise
You’ve been like a festering open wound inside me
I had to rip you off to feel better
I feel better.

This pain is the sweetest thing I have ever known.
They say that the record for holding one’s breath is 22 minutes and
22 seconds
That’s not truly accurate,
for months I was feeling like breathing underwater.

When I was with you I could never take a good photograph.
You see, with you,
I could never see myself in the good light.

You have this strange admiration for ice sculptures
It makes sense now
You are fond of things
that only last a few moments.

When I was looking into my old jacket
I found a scarf made of all the red flags
I so willingly ignored.
I also found an envelope in my pocket filled with all your
unkept promises, that’s the only thing you could afford to give.

I don’t blame you,
your chest is an empty whiskey bottle
Take it, it belongs to you now.

You found pride in breaking my heart and
keeping yours safe and sound
But you see,
broken things have so much beauty and battle
infused in them, it’s much more
admirable
than things that haven’t lived at all.

—

Words by Khawla Wesleti, a young Tunisian poet.

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