Your Handwriting is a Curse

Your handwriting is a curse on me,

It remains in me and

Reminds me of you.

When I think of an A,

Your A appears to say hello,

When I make a sophisticated L,

Your L volunteers.

I try not to take your handwriting

To make my inner thoughts,

But during winter,

It found a place and hibernated in me.

The edges of S seem to

Prick my conscience like a fishhook.

The fists of B seem to

Punch me in the face.

I'm at war with your handwriting,

And in this war,

I don't have any allies.

But I can tell you,

If you think of the old times,

Where you used your handwriting

To write for me,

In the notes you left, with the pancakes,

On the fridge,

On the bedside table,

And if you think of how much I adored those little notes,

You can spare me in this war.

But your mammoth love is blinding me,

I find no reasonable weapon

to defend the radiance of your handwriting.

Even though it is childish of me

to think that

You would come and call for a truce,

I know the sharp edges of your letters will never cease to persuade you.

They will fight until they cloud my thoughts

and I lose my sanity.

But then you and your handwriting will rule over me,

Making me do everything as you always wanted,

Mirroring you,

I cannot distinguish between us,

Whether it's me or you

Or is it just you?

A. C

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