Poems by Raquel Franco

I send anxiety
a cease and desist letter.
I close her mouth.
Unbind her gnawing disquiet,
slow my train track heart.
I manifest settle,
a steady river in my veins.
I proclaim calm,
a relentless hymn on my tongue.
I end the riot in my chest
and exhale.

Feels like a lifetime ago
that I loved like that.
Wanting more
and more and more.
There are no photographs.
No forgotten sweatshirts.
No saved brunch receipts
or concert tickets.
No proof that I was madly
in love with you.
We carved our names
into nothing.
My skin aches knowing
all I have left
is a fading film reel
of your smile.

This is my drowning,
my teeth sinking
into sour apples
and I’m not hiding

but I don’t need you
to tell me to stop picking
poison fruit. I need you
to tell me you know I’m strong,

to offer your arms as tender
until I discover on my own
that I no longer crave
the bite.

Of this I am certain:
your heart is a tender
wound that will always heal,
wears grace like a grown,
finds warmth even when
it has frozen over
like a lake, grows roots
after crawling into cold
coffins. There is no break
your heart can’t come back
from.