I remember that faithful day that he wrapped his arms around me, pillars of love and compassion, as he had done so many times in the past, and asked, Baby do you love me? To which I wanted to reply yes.
Yes I love you, and do you want to know how much? So much that I swallow the bitter sweet taste of blood and tell myself heartfelt kisses feel the same way. Hide black and blue eyes behind designer shades far too big for my face.
Tell the arch angel Gabriel to declare it on trumpets from Mount Zion. If I could I would trade places with Atlas and place the world upon my shoulders so that your Haitian homeland would not shake another day so that you might stand tall and firm for one extra moment.
Love you so much that I try day after day to convince myself that hardwood floors slamming into my face have the same gentleness of a soft caress; that the ringing in my ears and the tightness in my chest are just the remnants of the butterflies I get when I see you.
But these things I cannot say. I begin to wheeze, my asthma slowly getting the best of me because these words are steadily choking me, wedged in my chest and try hard as I might I can’t get them out so we both sit there in silence.
Tell myself that I love the hospital, even though I feel I know those crisp white sheets too well. They try to give me an IV but fail because they don’t realize I no longer have blood; you have sucked all the life out my veins.
Again you ask, baby do you love me, those strong arms tighten like boa constrictors around the most frightened of field mice. I tremble violently because I know we’re about to go through the same thing we always do. I wait in anticipation as I feel your fist collide with my chest, as if you could unwedge my unsung praises from their cage.
All I have is this ink that I let out in the tears that I have cried across this page. I’d tell them to check my heart but you took that too.
My body colliding with the floor, I want to say that I am concerned about my broken heart but at the moment my broken ribs are distracting me. Do you love me, and this time you scream it, no longer my soft sweet angel. Funny, I used to wonder how the devil and a saint could be one in the same, but with you standing there cursing my name I see clearly. Finally, as I hear the ambulance coming and see the flashing blue lights in the windows, I manage to choke it out, lest my words suffocate me and I down in my affection for you.
I remember when I used to dream of us getting lost in clean white sheets of music. Two souls intermingling as our bodies rise and fall to the symphonies created by the crescendos our joys and pains. The metronome I dance my life around and your pulse being one and the same. But our melodies seem to always end the sharp staccato of my scream (Devil’s key). Every time you breathe life into me, set me ablaze, you watch me burn, then turn to leave. But in hell I’d burn in eternity, take your punches and screams, that’s how much I love you. So much so that I’d never tell a soul. So much so that I’d never leave.
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