Her Name Is Doubt

I won't miss her

She's going to die soon,

once you finish reading this, actually. 

But before she dies, 

I'll tell you all about her. 

She's messy, violent, complicated, 

like a diamond. But each facet of a diamond

joins the others and makes something beautiful,

and orchestra of light and color...

but not her. 

I just want to kill her. 

I hate her. 

She rips me from my body

as I'm sleeping in your arms,

and forces me to stare at us

from a distance spanning time, and wonder. 

She makes me doubt,

myself...us. 

She makes me hesitate - question your eyes as they search my face

for something I can't seem to find myself. 

She tells me I'm wicked,

that I'm delaying our inevitable end,

that I'm turning you into something that you're not, 

that you're simply not real. 

But I'm killing her now, 

stifling, crushing, squeezing life from her throat, 

just by saying her name

and telling you what she's doing to us. 

When you started this poem

you took up a shovel, slowly, 

piling earth, worms, rot, 

on top of her smirking face. 

Thank you. 

You don't have to say anything more. 

She's dead. 

Author's Note

Hey everyone! This one is a little more intense because of its violent imagery. But, I feel like that was the best way to describe how I feel towards my doubt right now. I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Thanks so much for stopping by, and have a great day!

Reviews

[Rico]

I really like how you wrote this one, its a creative angle I often use when I write. its a double meaning, and the emotion is raw. my favorite part is the second stanza.

[Jebat Serawak]

It's like reading a story or watching a movie! Nice usage of words! I like this poem!

[Nadia Gerassimenko]

Wow...this is so raw, cutting, haunting. Fears and doubts are our worst enemies. They can turn something so beautiful and connecting as love into something so nightmarish and incohesive.