How is it so easy to throw a word and walk away. Like a grenade you leave it to explode within me -an adjective, an accusation, a perhaps truth.
All these years I’ve wrung myself out for you, held myself at both ends and twisted madly to extract every drop of purpose and pain. For you. For a ruthless Shylock I’ve loved.
I’ve eaten corners of toast, saved you sweet mango flesh, lied to you about not wanting the last bites of divine chocolate. The need to give you everything I could flowed in my veins, etching itself in cells and platelets. My little liquid love in all the places in my body, dying and multiplying by the million
I have grown accustomed to these words you hurl, swallowing without water, feeling them move down my esophagus and scratching against my insides with a stubborn refusal to dissolve. Continue reading “Selfish”