it amazes me how much time
the human mind, or simply,
a broken heart can grieve
on just one person –

and they could simply have no idea.

the preamble to self-deprecation
and sleepless pillow talk –

a love story torn in two
before the hero should be introduced.

-

the earth froze as our eyes met - for only a hint;
then the flame vanished – suddenly reminding me how much
i’d love for us to meet for the first time, all over again.

wishing to fall for you – without the courage to tell you,

over and over

again and again.

one forceful burst of holiday wind
makes me glance passively to the left,
tracing the lines in your ponytail as you
continue to stare beneath the pier. the
void silence between us is normal; i shiver
and you follow suit. you’re wearing triple
layers and i’m wishing i would have been
more prepared.

the seals suddenly go belly-up and you call for
the others. they come over; one is embracing
the other from behind; arms bolted to hips.
in the right angle, underneath the lamp post, i
pretend to unsee a slightly fresh mark on her neck.

i sense the awkwardness drifting our way as if the
white fog in the night had suddenly come alive. i
inch a hint closer. enough so you wouldn’t notice.
in fact, i’m not sure what would have happened.
i wonder if you would have stopped me, having known.

there’s about three inches and four centimeters between
our arms now. the others have gone upstairs and the voices
around us have retired. the small voice beneath my ears is
pressuring me to shoot my shot but my being remains stagnant.
we observe the seals dance joyously within nature’s boundaries.

you’re still shivering.

taking a substantial bite from the already petite slice,
he smiles and shoves the remainder of the fruit in my face.
“it tastes just like you; innocent and oh-so delicious.”

my skin crawls on every level imaginable submerged in flesh.
turning around as to hide my contorted expression, i just nod.
i absolutely hate him, but they claim he took care of me as a child.

“you don’t have to like him; he just needs acknowledgment.”

he grips my hands and spins me around. just like he used to.
but harder. much harder. i used to feel terror; it’s routine now.
stare at the concrete as spit projects on my face - internal meditation.

they never believe me when i bring it up. i get it, there’s no proof.
these marks around my throat – allergies from the weather.
you’re right, these bruises, they’re from rough housing. tough love.

literally.

he says the easiest way to discipline someone was reinforcing punishment.
you should see the strength he uses to test for ripeness at the market.
now imagine this: the watermelon is your skull, and his fists are knives.

i just avoid eye contact and clench my abdomen; the knees are coming.
“i’m going to spread you open today, boy; like a ******* ****** watermelon”
he loves seeing the liquid run down my chin – perfectly young and seedless.

and i react just how he likes it:

like his ******* watermelon.