This is How I Die: Collected Poems

by Kat Savage

I think I will find love one day. I think it will scare the shit out of me. I’m more frightened that I won’t know how to let it in and I will leave like I always do when things feel too intense. I don’t mind the hurt but the happy can be taken away and that scares me.

I am reminded I must teach my daughter about more than strangers lurking in shadows. I have to make sure she knows the boogeyman will sometimes look a lot like her.

I don’t know how to let go of who you never were. There are no graveyards for shadows.

A person doesn’t have to pack a suitcase and kiss you goodbye to leave. Sometimes they will slip away quietly sitting right next to you and you cannot reach them.

When he says he feels bad for hurting me, I remember not to say “it’s okay” because I read somewhere this response feeds the subconscious notion that their actions are, in fact, okay. So when he says he’s sorry, I make sure I tell him I forgive him. This way he knows what he did is wrong and is something requiring an apology.

When you strip yourself of something people expect, of something they have decided is who you are, you become truly free. Don’t let them take you under. Don’t let them decide who you are before you’ve had the chance to.

You are the imperial garden of bad decisions and here I sit, visiting again.

That’s the thing about falling in love with someone who moved like the wind. I was sad to watch you go, but would have loved you less if you had stayed— if you had clipped your wings and become something other than what I fell for.

I always fell in love with the unobtainable because the hurt was familiar and in so many ways, it was safe.

You are splashed across my life so delicately, it’s as if you’ve always been here.

Sorry, for my life. Because I’ve become accustomed to needing to apologize for it.