Whispers by Maryam Khamesi

Whispers

I hear them whispering
things they shouldn't know,
things my mother swears aren't true
because she rather believe lies
than face reality,
because she rather cry for something you weren’t
than for something you were.
You're buried beneath the silence
in the same position you were
when you injected the poison 
that you fell in love with, 
that you thought could save you
because you were afraid of the air,
of your breaths,
of your thoughts,
of the words you needed to say 
but held in always,
because you were afraid of them,
afraid of all of them,
when they were in your room, 
on your bed,
in your mind,
twisted into your veins,
the ones you misused
so that you could prove a point,
one that no one cared about.
You treasured the numbness,
mistook it for peace,
something no one can have,
no one can own for free.
I hear them reading their eulogies,
saying they remember your smile,
your radiance,
the way you sucked in oxygen,
as if you'd never get it back, 
the way you woke up every morning
looking forward to life, 
another chance,
another opportunity,
and I sit in my chair
consuming the black I'm wearing,
pressing my hand into my leg,
hoping it will cause another bruise,
wishing I could tell all of them, 
Fuck you. 
They don't even have the fucking decency
to tell the truth, 
not even at this moment,
when you're helpless,
when you're soaked in hell,
the kind you don't get on earth.
They've turned you into a god,
erased all the shit you've done, 
as if it didn't make you more real,
as if they’re embarrassed
to share your last name, 
as if they don't care
that I care,
that you care,
that this world should care,
because we're tired of the fakeness,
the legacy that's now invisible,
the image that's fallen into the same hole,
every single one of us will be in,
every single one of us will taste,
that sweet flavor
of everything we couldn't do,
of everyone we couldn't please,
of every time we held it in,
that pain we hated,
that we were taught to never feed.
I hear them whispering again,
as if I can't hear it, 
as if you can't feel it, 
as if saying it softly changes anything. 

​

Bio: Maryam Khamesi likes to write lyrics, poetry, and stories that explore emotional pain.

---