Idea Of Love Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

I'm not what you've done to me.
I'm creating myself, getting born
on my own, on these pages,
where you are less than memories.

Calling me in the middle of the night,
to tell me how I failed to conquer you,
instead of the world. How the world
mattered more to me. How I desired
its acceptance more than I desired yours.

But you don't seem to remember
how you required a new price
every day, and made love
a trophy. The violence of
your lips. The glass that,
instead of me, conquered you.

you are difficult to remember
entirely, as each year takes
a little bit more than I
am willing to forget, but

I write, not to forget,
but to extinguish you.
It is the purposes we make
for ourselves that matter most.

And it's good to have a purpose,
to fight for something I care,
to lean upon the world and say,
'you did not brake me'.