an unrequited love letter to the city that murdered me
Phoenix Tesni
Content Warning: mention of murder
1. promise me this city will remain safe. i want to hold this town by the scruff of its neck and smash its guts into a tree. too violent? i question myself. i do not know what to do with all this rage inside of me. i do not wish to know.
2. this city is burning, and i want to believe that i did not have a role in it. this town and i, we have our flaws. amnesia: one because of the past, and the other for the future. it hangs an eviction notice on the tip of one of its skyscrapers: not for me, but for the fear inside my bones. how the city knows my howling, i do not wish to know.
3. the sky outside is gloomy, gray, about to wallow in self pity. it’s a lazy afternoon, just without the sun or the holiness. it says to me, “you might not know it yet, but you have frostbite in your soul.” i cross that out of my mind. “it’s nice to see you again,” the sky says. how it speaks while remaining silent as a grave, i do not wish to know.
4. the briar patch beneath my feet looks like the perfect setting for a romantic horror. the cherries have ripened and burst, the sirens are loud enough to kill. 11 was the age i knew i had to be a murderer in order to be a good citizen. “it’s complicated,” the mirrors told me. how, i do not wish to know.
5. love is a foreign language to me. i’m still learning to recognize the syllables, the curve of its letters. kisses on the cheek? yes. waiting under the stairs? yes. plates crashing, screaming-crying, and still sleeping together in bed? maybe. i do not know.
6. everything comes crashing over again. there are answers to the universe out there. i do not know. i wish i knew.
2. this city is burning, and i want to believe that i did not have a role in it. this town and i, we have our flaws. amnesia: one because of the past, and the other for the future. it hangs an eviction notice on the tip of one of its skyscrapers: not for me, but for the fear inside my bones. how the city knows my howling, i do not wish to know.
3. the sky outside is gloomy, gray, about to wallow in self pity. it’s a lazy afternoon, just without the sun or the holiness. it says to me, “you might not know it yet, but you have frostbite in your soul.” i cross that out of my mind. “it’s nice to see you again,” the sky says. how it speaks while remaining silent as a grave, i do not wish to know.
4. the briar patch beneath my feet looks like the perfect setting for a romantic horror. the cherries have ripened and burst, the sirens are loud enough to kill. 11 was the age i knew i had to be a murderer in order to be a good citizen. “it’s complicated,” the mirrors told me. how, i do not wish to know.
5. love is a foreign language to me. i’m still learning to recognize the syllables, the curve of its letters. kisses on the cheek? yes. waiting under the stairs? yes. plates crashing, screaming-crying, and still sleeping together in bed? maybe. i do not know.
6. everything comes crashing over again. there are answers to the universe out there. i do not know. i wish i knew.
Phoenix Tesni (she/her) is a twenty-two-year-old poet from New Delhi. She has works published or forthcoming in Sage Cigarettes, Limelight Review, Verum Literary Press, celestite poetry, and many other places. Phee likes to dedicate her life to consuming and creating art in all its dazzling forms. You can find a full list of her projects and publications at phoenixtesni.com ; or say hi to her @PhoenixTesni on twitter. She will always say it back.
