because there’s nothing to hold to tightly

if you’re lost, strayed, or stolen, he whispers. if you’re hungry
and the words bite my skin. tear into the fleshy bits like sharp teeth against my ribs. all i can do to fight the spin -- close my eyes and wait. i’m there. no question. his voice remains like the scar of a once removed stitch.

at some point we have to grow up, i struggle to say the right thing or what i mean, which at the moment feels oddly disjointed. we’re not in that place any more, i posit. we’ve been coloring for too long without any lines. we’re love gone awry. too much history and broken things like hearts and bones and homes.

i soak in the bath.
he plays guitar.
sings.

if you say you’re in love with me, i’ll get on a plane this instant and slap your face so hard you won’t be able to remember yesterday.
i know
right
you’re right
you’re delusional
i know
stop it and act right. stop it and start living your life child. you know this doesn’t have anything to do with me.
straight
and all those times i slept in your bed and we clung to one another like we were some kind of yet to be discovered animal – we were just lonely – maybe i mean we were alone.
it’s all fucked up in my head, baby
no it isn’t. i can’t keep filling my life with smoke and mirrors.
you’re my one true thing

[silence]

nope. no. i’m your one sure thing. i’m just the person you can bet on. i’m just the person who’s always there when you call. it’s been years of this. we know it. you know it as much as i do. and i love you babe. i love you like some people love whatever they call god. but that don’t really mean anything. it don’t mean shit. it just means i do. it just means i’ll never stop answering the phone.
i don’t deserve it.
maybe not. who does, mahn? do i? and who gets to decide that anyway?
because love means never having to say you’re sorry?
exactly
i fucking love you kid. god, i love you.
me too. i try not to cry through the words. no fucking doubt.

and i wonder later after we’ve gone all tired and talked out, while sipping hot tea out of a heavy mug, about the price of love and what we do to ourselves to get it or to avoid it. about feeling ridiculous and hiding away under your own tough skin. and i listen to my neighbors unloading themselves in the parking strip from a late night out. drunk and laughing. i can hear the sounds of them, from their bedroom, through the walls. until i’m sick of myself and my own useless machinations.

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