2 minute read
J
by Gabrielle Lauren Byrnes
He grins and says, there’s lipstick on your neck— like I’ve been able to think of anything else since you put it there like I’ve been able to think since you showed up at my door in those pink plush slippers you love. I can’t sleep. Since you crawled into my bed and tucked yourself into my throat. I’d like to say, baby, baby, baby, did you know your heart isn’t in this? did you know it’s beating somewhere else that’s not here? That’s not mine? But I’d like to say it as if I’m not scrounging around your chest for pieces as if I wouldn’t shove my fist through your ribs for a shard. So I don’t say anything because we know this already. Humdrum and humdroll and on and on and on— you tuck yourself into my throat and I can’t breathe. Is that what you wanted, sweetheart? Was that your intent? When you whispered baby like it meant something like not a knife like something like love? Let me put it this way: My chest is open on the pavement and your hands are wet and red to the wrist and you’re asking me to hold on but there’s nothing to hold on to except your cheek. You’re crying and I can’t breathe. I say, sweetheart. And look, now my blood’s on your jaw and the whorls of your
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thumb. Now my blood’s on your mouth that’s not mine. You’re not mine but I paint you red there and there and there. Am I making any sense sweetheart? Let me put it this way: Someone’s got a gun to your head so I shoot first. I kill the bad man, and maybe you hate me for it but so what? So fucking what? I steer you away from the body, I hide your eyes from the wreck, I make sure you never have blood on your hands because we both know you’re too sensitive for this shit. And when the monsters come to rip my heart out, well you’re hidden away for that too safe in a tower laying in his arms, red on your neck where I kissed you goodbye. Do you get it now sweetheart? Let me put it this way: I’m standing in a field at dusk and you’re running big gown, soft light, you’d be a dream to undress— you’re running toward your one true love and you’re running away from me. But I can still feel the shape of your hips under my fingers and the half-moons you stamped into my spine and the taffeta of your skirt on my cheek and the soft skin of your knees where you parted them for me. But you’re running toward your one true love and you’re running away from me. Do you get it now sweetheart?