Eights Scenes of Static, Crying, and Love.

I.
You put out your wrists like they were forms of identification.
These are the scars that I have forged by hand.
This is from shards of glass and this one here is from flimsy stainless steel.
He stared. Silent. Small, sad grin.
He shows you a perfect pink circle on his leg.
This is from a lit cigarette.
So is this one, and this one, and this one.
He points to a sharp dash on his neck.
This is where I learned my limits.

II.

Your last classes for the day are in the building across from the mental health hospital.
You remember the pea soup green walls, and the barred narrow windows, and that damn yarn art outside the girls ward.
You are terrified that you are slipping away.
You finally tell him, in tears, about the shadows you see and how sometimes the silence calls your name.
He doesn’t see the shapes you see when you lay awake at night.
But he holds you like nothing has changed.

III.

You’re at an unknown, country gas station.
It’s pitch black dark everywhere around the white lights from the signs and under the canopy.
He’s tired, you can tell.
He rubs at his eyes.
There’s nothing you can do
You can’t drive.
So, you sneak away and buy him slim jims and a pepsi.
You hate the taste of pepsi.
You hand it to him sheepishly.
You don’t meet his eyes, stare at the stained concrete under your black shoes.
“It’s okay” he says.
He kisses you quickly and you let yourself sink into it
even though you taste pepsi.

IV.
He’s dying and you’re reaching for him but you’re being pulled away farther and farther and farther and then you wake up
to chirping birds and soft sunshine and orange cream walls.
His glasses are lopsided because he shoved them on so quickly
You were screaming again.
You say nothing, just wrap yourself around his arm.
He never mentions it again.
He makes blueberry pancakes because they’re your favorite
He looks at you over the table, the mug of tea in his hands fogs up the lenses of his glasses.
He waits a beat for you to explain
You don’t.
He never mentions it again.

V.

You’re sobbing on the floor because the peacocks killed all the pandas and he can’t help but laugh but
he gets on the floor too.

VI.
You haven't slept in days or
maybe it’s been one night
you don’t remember the last time you were outside
how long has it been since you were last in class
you can’t stop shaking
you can’t stop thinking about
Death
you can’t stop thinking about How Small You Are In The Universe
you can’t stop feeling that there is Someone Behind You
you can’t remember the last time you ate but you are not
hungry.
Your mind says
in the softest whisper
to Jump Out Of The Window And Impale Yourself On The Garden Post!
You decide that’s too much effort.
you hear your name. you ignore it.

VII.
He holds your belly and sighs and
you can’t help but feel content
because despite how much you
love your body
you’re always scared that
no one else will.
VIII.

You’re crying so hard you swear you feel blood vessels pop in your face
You can’t stop yourself It’s too much It’s too much It’s too much it’s
always too much
He rubs your back. Small circles. Clockwise.
You’re shaking and trying so hard to hold back your crying.
Why are you always fucking crying?
There are too many colors and sounds.
He’s going to leave you. He thinks you’re crazy. He hates you.

“I’m not going to leave you.” his voice is so distant and soft.
He stays.

IX.

It’s his birthday. Your heart is bursting.
He blows out the candles on the cake you made for him.
He’s grinning so wide.
You have never been so in love.

That night you’re sitting with your head in his lap.
I’ve never been so happy.
“Me too, me too.”

X.
I don’t need you to save me
I need you to know that.
I don’t expect you too.
And I hope you don’t want to do that.
I want you to be happy.
And healthy.
And safe.
But I understand what you mean. You don’t need to save me, too.
This, all of this.
Is just a side effect. I just want.
I want you to love me despite of this and in a way
because of it.
I don’t understand.
I don’t expect you too. It’s too hard. Just.
A lot of me is because of this. How hard I love
My words and tastes and art and how I see
Is Because Of This.
But if it ever gets too much. Don’t you dare think you have to stay.
Don’t stay in this because you’re afraid of me
Promise me.
I promise.

XI.
He takes your hand in front of the white lilies and you’re crying because
He never knew how much he means to people. How famous his art is now.
You know, only one person bought one of his paintings? He suffered. I wish he knew how loved he is.

Later you’re going home in the car.
Can we have sunflowers at our wedding, if we ever get married?
Of course.
You pretend to not notice how much you’re both smiling.

XII.

You’re coming down from an episode.
You just need a stronger dose.
You can remember your screaming
The terrible things you said
You’re starting to shake less.
You are terrified.
Your head is in his lap.
His fingers are laced in your hair.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
I’m so scared
You’re okay.
I’m here.
You’re okay.