The question

There was an invisible
line I crossed
somewhere back there
where this game
became real, the stakes
ratcheted up, forfeit no
different to all-in loss.
I crossed that line because
I didn’t know it existed
wouldn’t have believed if I’d known
thought always you can
turn back. You can’t.
I bet my life
didn’t know I had
and lost
didn’t know you could lose,
didn’t know I had lost until
much, much later.
No excuses. Time to pay up.
Disbelief. Anger. Bargaining.
Life wasn’t supposed to be like this.
But who said? It was
always more serious
than I wanted to believe.
Yes. You can lose.
Yes. It can cost you everything.
A bit of fun. I was a
drug-runner’s mule, smuggling
love and hope and free-hearted
love-making into a country where
all of these things carry the death
penalty. A country of trauma
victims and narcissists, sociopaths
and cynics. They’ll take you in
with a smile. Oh, your heart? How
pretty. Thank you, it’s adorable.
You shouldn’t have. Your life belongs to me?
Well, I’ll take you up
on that, don’t mind if I do.
Well, no, sorry, but I mean it:
really; here’s the knife; sorry
but I do insist. You promised.
Your life.
If only I’d known,
that first needle;
chasing a butterfly across
that line. Nothing so pretty
could be anything but innocent,
surely? Or lead me anywhere bad?
And the stories,
the fucking stories. Love
melted the hardest heart. No
sorry, the hardest heart took
that angel and fucked it
up the arse, and was
already bored by the time
the broken pieces of
that cherub slit its own
wrists. Was already annoyed at
the mess, and forgot about
it while picking out a jacket
for tonight’s party before
the blood was dry.
Love is the answer and
the question is, what is the
stupidest thing people will
do of their own free will.
The question is, how much
pain is there? The question is,
how to get the condemned to lay
their necks peacefully
on the block?

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