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We’d been waiting in line at Chipotle for half an hour when you turned to me and said “If we have to stand here for five more ******* minutes I’m throwing myself in the deep frier.” I told you that I figured a person could stand just about anything for ten seconds Then when that’s over, you just start on another ten seconds Our burrito bowls would be here right away if we just took it ten seconds at a time So the first night I slept in your bed, as you kicked me in the side as punishment for a night’s worth of nightmares dreamt too close for comfort Each prime number punctuated by another jab I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. One month later at Tim Horton’s I ordered you breakfast. A sesame seed bagel lightly toasted with butter. It’s two shades too dark and when I came home you told me as far as you were concerned we both belong in the garbage, slammed the door in my face so I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, Ten weeks before, woke up to knife elbows slicing into my ribs saying I can’t sleep So you played architect and I was Pompeii Finally touching me for the first time in centuries The dust rising to reveal relief as tangible as ruins themselves I leaned in to brush my lips against yours, hands rushed up my cheek and you pushed me, Just a little too roughly into a forest of flannel sheets and recycled oxygen I felt thankful that at least you were touching me In a way that if I tried hard enough I could perceive as romantic You rolled away like ocean’s waves pushing against the dams of my eyelids One audible leak and I’d be sleeping in the bathtub again so I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Eight days later at my parents’ Edith Piaf was on my turntable Your borrowed vape in my hand I should’ve probably been crying, But my mind has only ever had one track and missing you took precedence over tears. Wanting to go back to you feels gross. It feels wet It feels nauseating Why do I want to go back to a place That was once a home but is now just an apartment where I pay rent in my ability to sidestep the landmines scattered across floor made of eggshells? I love you because when you saw me have a panic attack for the first time You held me until my muscles felt like they hated me a little less I don’t because when I walked in on you ******* your ex girlfriend Your thunder shook my tree branch shoulders So hard that my boughs convulsed and burst the twig capillaries in my eyeballs. I love you because your stepmother is younger than you are And that’s just really ******* sad. I don’t because you say you never did anything that would warrant “this kind of behaviour” As if loving you had landed me in detention I love you because you once felt like home. I don’t because you changed the locks. 1, 2, 3, For months I told myself that we all crack under pressure But once I saw that my tremors were coming from your faults I realized how deep trembles are felt Love is not an earthquake Love is not painful Love is learning how to come home again Love is ******* magic I will not delay its happening by wasting another ten seconds on you.
0
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
ten seconds at a time
We’d been waiting in line at Chipotle for half an hour when you turned to me and said “If we have to stand here for five more ******* minutes I’m throwing myself in the deep frier.” I told you that I figured a person could stand just about anything for ten seconds Then when that’s over, you just start on another ten seconds Our burrito bowls would be here right away if we just took it ten seconds at a time So the first night I slept in your bed, as you kicked me in the side as punishment for a night’s worth of nightmares dreamt too close for comfort Each prime number punctuated by another jab I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. One month later at Tim Horton’s I ordered you breakfast. A sesame seed bagel lightly toasted with butter. It’s two shades too dark and when I came home you told me as far as you were concerned we both belong in the garbage, slammed the door in my face so I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, Ten weeks before, woke up to knife elbows slicing into my ribs saying I can’t sleep So you played architect and I was Pompeii Finally touching me for the first time in centuries The dust rising to reveal relief as tangible as ruins themselves I leaned in to brush my lips against yours, hands rushed up my cheek and you pushed me, Just a little too roughly into a forest of flannel sheets and recycled oxygen I felt thankful that at least you were touching me In a way that if I tried hard enough I could perceive as romantic You rolled away like ocean’s waves pushing against the dams of my eyelids One audible leak and I’d be sleeping in the bathtub again so I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Eight days later at my parents’ Edith Piaf was on my turntable Your borrowed vape in my hand I should’ve probably been crying, But my mind has only ever had one track and missing you took precedence over tears. Wanting to go back to you feels gross. It feels wet It feels nauseating Why do I want to go back to a place That was once a home but is now just an apartment where I pay rent in my ability to sidestep the landmines scattered across floor made of eggshells? I love you because when you saw me have a panic attack for the first time You held me until my muscles felt like they hated me a little less I don’t because when I walked in on you ******* your ex girlfriend Your thunder shook my tree branch shoulders So hard that my boughs convulsed and burst the twig capillaries in my eyeballs. I love you because your stepmother is younger than you are And that’s just really ******* sad. I don’t because you say you never did anything that would warrant “this kind of behaviour” As if loving you had landed me in detention I love you because you once felt like home. I don’t because you changed the locks. 1, 2, 3, For months I told myself that we all crack under pressure But once I saw that my tremors were coming from your faults I realized how deep trembles are felt Love is not an earthquake Love is not painful Love is learning how to come home again Love is ******* magic I will not delay its happening by wasting another ten seconds on you.
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
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