New Diagnosis
written by: Daedalus Chaos
@DaedalusChaos
I woke up gasping.
I look at you – soundly asleep
with your slow breathing – and I
struggle to imagine how we
managed to be.
As I think about your soft hair,
gentle lips and eyes, my throat
swells– choking on your
sweet scent from filling my lungs.
I cough and cough and choke,
waking you.
You caress me, trying to sooth yet your
fingers leave a trail of hives on
which runs to my chest and as you plant your
lips on mine, the taste of copper and ash
invades my senses, forcing me to step back
as I dry-heave – overwhelmed by
your presence.
Every longing ray of light from
your pupils singe my flesh causing me
to retreat further into the shadows beyond the
grasps of your love. Each night, I turn my back to
protect my chest from stakes as you reach over
to cuddle.
Was it always so? I merely asked after I sliced
my palms in order to bleed onto my notebook only to find
I have no feelings to smear on the pages. So where does
that leave me? Am I to ingest cortisone for my body to
remain composed in your presence out of pity? Is it
best to retreat into the shadows?
- Isn’t It a Pity? - March 16, 2024
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