When I was a little girl, I learned:

To love is to fight.
Passion is pale if it doesn’t draw blood.
Anger is the fertile sod of love,
and its growth leaves indelible marks
on every part it touches.

To love is public spectacle
screaming operettas at two am,
scenes in restaurants and hotel lobbies.
Naked in the snow at dawn
bellowing enraged affection
until someone calls the cops.

To love is to hurt
Life is agony and cacophony
and silence is the death of all things
the stillness of void.
Only the bruise that aches
is a worthy memento of
how much one is loved.

Later,
I learned the knack
of lighting the fuse.
This unwieldy infection
that lies dormant only
until it reaches out and snatches
the air from the room.

We loved like beasts eternally
hungry for that pound of flesh
we repeatedly demanded.
Clawing back the image
formed by the other
in the mirrors of our eyes.

I grew to realize
terror lay in the silent
moments that might lead
to contemplation,
the fearful sideways glimpse
of that horrific reflection.
The dawning of the terrible truth:
That I wasn’t human,
that this wasn’t love,
it was cannibalism
in a chocolate box.

11 Responses

  1. ‘… it was cannibalism
    in a chocolate box.’

    – Great line.

    ‘Naked in the snow at dawn’ sounds rather appealing… at least, it makes alluring pics in my head. So vivid, this is.

    1. My five crowns (since I live in the northernmost part of Sweden, with regular aurora borealis sightings) is that no, it is never nice to be naked in the snow. Except when you’re having a nice sauna session, but who has time for fun in the snow then? Take the word from someone who tried it and realised that “blue balls” were gotten, and on a whole new level at that

      My intention was not to destroy the fantasy; the reason for those painful moments was certainly worth it. However, we decided to continue in the sauna. 🙂

  2. Every time I comment I can never convey the depth to which some of your work touches me. This one on a particularly deep level.

    How are you to know love isn’t to bruise if that is all you have seen?
    When does the realization of cannibalism strike?

    Maybe when your frozen soul thaws in that snow staring at the face of the monster above you…

    Um … thanks for sharing & posting as always

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