Something I wrote over 2 years ago that makes me think of relationships gone wrong. I’ve read my share of stories (real and imagined) that have a toxic feel.
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I watch the scratches as they appear on your face as if from a distance. How can rage, pain, and love live so comfortably inside me, all directed at you?
With your sensual looks, I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. It was the way your dark eyes burned with something blacker than night. You warned me away even as you drew me close. Ignoring the warnings, I fell into you. Even then I couldn’t say no.
It was brilliant from the beginning, so bright I was blind to all except you. The touch of your body as it glided against mine, the fever I felt as our lips connected, how I vibrated as you spilled your essence inside of me. I was yours and you knew it.
But our love is one of sharp edges and puddled blood, of slamming doors and terrible words, of angry sex and broken promises. You leaving and me crying on the floor, me cheating because I can’t take it anymore. And always coming back to burn each other up.
You hurt the ones you love, you told me that first day. Hurt them until the wound becomes deep and swallows everything, until they hurt you back. I want to gouge out the pain until it bleeds like the scratches on your face.
I love you so much. I hate you so much!
My lips move over the scratches and I taste tears and blood. Yours and mine.
You and me tied so tightly together, damaging ourselves as we try to love each other. God help me, but I can’t stop loving you even if I tried. The taste of your pain on my tongue reminds me that I don’t want to stay away from you.
I can’t stay away.