My bones bubble with lava red pustules absorbing the hot air an angry cloud full of hail and snow and sleet blockades my throat I am all feelings and no action all body but no voice A pile of fractured bone lines the windowsill My heart vomits all over this clean apartment Wet and Wanting All ears and no mouth All tongue and teeth and spit but no words A violent storm with no landing zone
You walked into the butcher shop eyes of blue determination asked me to hand you the cow heart. Still beating, i let it slip into you hot palm letting the blood trickle down our arms as our fingers featherd each others wrists. You took the corpse and slipped it deep into your jean pocket like a secret love affair.
You asked me if i wanted to go swimming sometime. It was not a question. I cordially accept your wet invitation.
We splashed in the melted blue like children yet unbroken by the cruelties of living.
We ate each other. Starving you told me i was the first meal you had in months and i, so innocently believed you.
The next day you invited me over for dinner. It was not a question. Full on **** i accepted
Hot you opened the kitchen door quickly and whispered down my spine, my body like lava erupting before we made it to the first course.
On the dinner table lay the butchered heart. Still beating you asked me to take the first bite, and i, brimming with your desire- did
I swallowed it like a rock. pulsating through my core, shaking my small frame.
You kissed my stomach.
The next day i awoke in cold sweats. Feverish Vomiting up my stomach lining chunky and undigested.
I left you three messages.
Sick. White. Quaking. I waited.
Disintegrating into myself. The flesh melting off my body like a landslide. A hurricane in slow motion.
you skinned me like a thanksgiving turkey left me on your kitchen table to be picked at by the angry flies. A slow meticulous death.
You said “look into my eyes.” And i was so lost in the blue i allowed you to take the knife right to the place where the world begins.
I was so in love with an idea.
I ate your heart without question not understanding that you cannot consume someone into loving you.
What goes in must come out.
Now, what is left of our **** lines the bathroom sink.
A bath of blood and bile I obsessively pick though trying to discern where I went wrong.
I was never taught to say no. Spit fire. Only to duct tape my hands. Glue my lips. Nod before the question was asked. I learned niceness as synonym for women. I learned yes as synonym for niceness. Aggression must be swallowed. Emotion only shown if it is full of rainbows and butterflies. Of high pitched yeses and forced giggles. I must eat my guilt, my pain, my anger. Guzzle it with no water. Choke down the rage, the irritation. Tie up my suffering in pink lace; place it delicately in a Tiffany's box. Buried underneath my pillow. like reciting my favorite song lyrics, over and over and over until I can’t remember their meaning but can’t stop humming the melody.
He asks if it is okay and I delicately peel back my skin. “How could I not be” I say in flawless harmony. Next time he doesn’t ask if it's okay but I don’t say no. I try to speak but my throat is a desert— hacking up the remains of my innocence. In perfect pitch I recite the words as I gag back the hurt, the pain, the pain, letting the guilt leak onto my lips and crawl up my skirt. More afraid of being accused of meanness than claiming my body as my own.
As a woman I have learned that being nice is more important than saying no. That no is synonym for mean, *****, *****. That mean is synonym for unwomanly. And what am I without my womanhood? I have devoured my words for dinner more often than not in hopes of saving my feminine.
I was never taught to say no. I don’t know how to say no.
Only to sit in the corner like a trained dog and hold my breath. Only to sing along until my throat runs dry, until I’m coughing up blood all over your white carpet. Smiling.