[ENG] i can’t imagine feeling like this fifty years from now.

i want to have children. play tag around the park by our house,

peek-a-boo around the poles and the big red slide. “Mom!
You’re It!” I’ll get you. smooch your cheek. laugh helplessly.

i don’t want to ruin them. wake up late on a sunday, see my blood
crusted in the place on my arm where i should be holding them.
yell when they aren’t listening. “Mom! I’m hungry!” I’m hungry too.
lock the bathroom door & fall to the ground. maybe they’ll leave.
maybe i will.

i want to have a wife. walk down the aisle- of the grocery store-
with a list of ingredients to make her favourite cookies because
it’s two in the morning and she’s pregnant with our first child.
wake her up with a lick on the nose. she laughs.
kisses my chin.

i don’t want us to turn hard and sick. wake her up with a question-
“Honey, why do you always leave your fucking shoes there?
you getting ready to go somewhere?” she sighs herself out of bed
and i think, i just want to get this back. look at me. look at me.

i want to build a house from its bare bones. hug the wood
and cut the wires. pull out the tar and inject the walls.
only love, everywhere. no blood. no bills.

i don’t want to feel hollowed out. it takes years to lay foundations.
my heart is too old to think so far ahead,
my dreams sink into the ground because i didn’t put up curtains
around them.

I want to love you.
i don’t want to live.

- Amy Hurst

Illustration: Samantha Scafidi 

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