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I.

I refuse to see myself refracted by you gaze any longer. I forgot what had even drawn me to bask in it in the first place. You efface me humiliate me,

Always.

(separating me from what I hold dear; you call it elitist, trivial, make me feel like it hurts you that I have hobbies, interests, friends)

 

You must have caught me with some sweet honey or nectar when I was still a girl, young, alone and thirsty for the world. People are saying that I have become a shell, saying ‘we’ instead of ‘I,’ with ‘you’ hanging off ‘me’ like a lecherous growth.

 

But I just cant cut you off like a rotting branch as I spread my roots in this tender life. I do not want to be involved in a murderous proposition – this life has grown out of control, I believe it was once mine. It is its own beast now and I cannot stomach hoisting it up and hanging it by the neck. What if nothing were to take its place? It has already eaten all my dreams.

 

I want to be violently ill when I look at you or you greet me with an embrace. I want to worm away in the most cowardly manner. I feel trapped and cannot breath against your huge heaving chest. I push my arms against you but it is misread as affection, your kiss is long and full of saliva, obtrusive and forceful. You do not stop or wait or listen.

 

These thoughts make me feel like a bad person

I will still say I love you because the words flow so easily from you that I get caught in them and carried downstream, not knowing how to place my hands as my mind wanders elsewhere.

 

And as it wanders I rest on a recurring dream of mine; a nightmarish vision of us morphing, melding into a huge, heaving organism with half an eye and fourteen toes protruding from every purulent limb. In my dream I cut each of them off at the knuckle with bolt cutters and they fall like autumn leaves, leaving me to bleed for a little while. I pull away and I pull in, applying pressure to the wound.

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