Kyla Pasha | Poetry

Suffer the lovers
to follow you blinded – they will hold
you to the line when the time comes.
Suffer the lovers to take you
to their city, that would be your city
were you wearing the torn-neck clothing
they’ve never taken off. Suffer
the lovers to hold you
because it is love and not wishes
keeping you warm and suffer
the lovers to leave you dry
when you leave them crying
at bus stops and coffee shops,
a cliché for future stories, a metaphor,
an anecdote, a passing thought.
Suffer the lover to kill you
every night and bring you to life
and expect salvation and be decimated.
Suffer the lover to love you
in ways you cannot understand.