It’s merely a contradiction of the previously mentioned
It’s the surfacing of truth
It’s the beginning of disappointment
The deterioration of hopefulness
The bridge between expectancy and what really came
It's the prepare yourself
It's the brace yourself
It's the dreaded but...

It’s that addictive conversation you reiterate. It’s the knife cut staining the cutting board. It’s the black bruise that keeps spreading. It’s the crack in the sidewalk followed by the fall you forgot to brace. It’s the deadline missed. It’s the “this-not-that”. It’s the hour passed that you couldn’t afford to lose. It’s the darkness under the bed. It’s the crack in the ceiling. The creak in the step. The leaky faucet. The sour milk. It’s the abandoned dog’s cry. It’s the forgotten wallet on the subway train. It’s the stand up on a blind date. It’s the buying a carton of broken eggs. It’s the “I’m-sorry-I-forgot”. It’s the gum on the bottom of stilettos. It’s the cigarette smoke invading your lungs. It’s the bald man lurking around the corner.  It’s the two yellow eyes amongst the sickening darkness. It’s the disease in your mothers breast. It’s the crisp brown leaves on your house plant. It’s the neglected number on a misplaced napkin. It’s the loose *****. The pull in your sweater. The miscommunication. The jammed index finger. It’s the first time and wishing it was your last. It’s the promised call that never came. It’s the clenched fist as you suffer the hit. It’s the threatening epidemic. It’s the “it-will-take-time” which you never took. It’s the adhesive fly paper you can’t shake off.
And it’s all of this,
Till you grasp it’s none of this.
It’s the muggy sickness found in the depths of your stomach.
It’s scorching guilt
And it’s eating you, swallowing you whole
It’s suffocating
It’s enduring
It's guilt everlasting

You went into those waters
The ones they always warned you about, scolded you for speaking - thinking about
Yet you submerged yourself so completely, it ****** you in whole
You peacefully sank without a cry for help, without a murmur of protest
The weight of the water held you, the surface stilled

You went into those waters
You let it eat you, fill you up, take you hostage
But you were not detained
You made it home, you breathed in the blackness – lived for the blackness
It was the uncertainty within the musk which you could not resist

You went into those waters, but you did emerge
You resurfaced with its heavy stench clinging to you
Everything you built turned to ash upon your touch
Your visit in the water was what rotted your soul - tainted your skin
It stained your body till you were unrecognizable
You emerged a stranger to yourself

You went into those waters
But you never did return - for it was not you who resurfaced
Your clean body lies hidden along the waters floor

You went into those waters
You were warned, but could not resist
You enjoyed what could provide
And in return it kept you

I was never a child who got too startled
It was not the imaginary monsters or darkest corners that kept me up
It was always the words
Words  that paralyzed me, pinned back my ears

I was never a child who got too sick
I did not catch the common flu commonly  
Nor did I shake with sweat on a bone-chilling night
It was always the words
Words that scraped my stomach raw, ate me inside out

I was never a child who got too smart
I did not talk with naively perceived accuracy
It was not the punishment I received from being a smart-aleck that refrained me
It was always the words
Words that controlled my inner speech, meticulously measuring what squeaked out

I was never a child who got too close
I did not trust, for I did not know, for I did not try
I was barricaded by the words
It was always the words that paralyzed me, scraped me raw, controlled me
I was forced to listen, but never to ask, never to protest, never to question
I was restrained by the words, obstructed by them
I let them hurt, I let them deplete me, I let them be me

And they have been me, and they are me
I have consumed them, time and time again
I let them take over, till there was no more me and only the words
It was always the words
Now it is just *the words

Do you remember the humid red that stained your cheeks?
Do you recall the sultry desire that overran your judgments?
Do you maybe reminisce on the unsynchronized gasping of needed breath?
Do you recollect on ripped clothing during insistent moments of unshakeable craving?

Because it was this unshakeable craving that controlled you, it overtook you and you forgot to resist. It was this unshakeable craving that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.  

Do you remember the burning of skin as you transferred heat?
        Or the pressing up against the door?
        Or curled toes?  
        Or the paralyzing quivers?
Do you recollect on the sweatiness amongst the heavy sheets?
Do you perhaps reminisce on how it felt like an addiction you couldn’t overcome?
Do you recall the “no-it’s-not”, but really it was?

Because really, it was.
It was the sum of these parts, but they oddly equated to more.                  
It was this “no-it’s-not”, when really it was, that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.

Do you remember what it was?
Do you recall wanting, needing, yearning?
Do you recollect messy hair, breathlessness, than the stillness?
Do you reminisce on this quiet stillness?

Because it was this stillness that lets you remember, recall, recollect on, reminisce on your sticky love.