Ten Feet Under
by Eisle B. Opeña

Imagine me standing on a cliff
wearing nothing, but the smell of cigarettes in my tongue
the chapped lips that used to whisper ‘no’
but you kept on digging, anyway
and I remember,
how your nails raked through that sensitive skin
touching, claiming, marking,
every inch of me
as your first-prized trophy
and I remember,
where you touched me in the dark
down in the corner of what couldn’t be reach in the light
as I resolve into muffled silence
and surrendered ignorance
and I remember,
when you kissed my unresponsive mouth
your tongue was sharper than a sword
and cutting through the sound of silent tears
tasting so ugly
and I remember,
all the things I hoped to forget
to leave these memories ten feet under
to let them rot into nothing but dirt
but these things I knew I could never
your touch is a never-ending story
and even after you’ve left,
I can’t differ yours from another
because in my head,
you are here, there, and everywhere
so please
if – when – you read this,
bury me under ten feet under
along with the self I’ve lost
in the ocean of my own emptiness
let me wither
allow me to burn into ashes and ember
and maybe – just maybe –
every fucking memory of you
would burn away too
We want to thank Eisle for her contribution! Follow her on Twitter and Instagram.