Postcards From the Heart

I heard you sing karaoke once and it was the worst thing I had ever sat through but I loved you so I forced myself to listen, I imagined everyone's ears bleeding and your parents had to cheer for you because you were their favorite son. It didn't help that you were interuppting yourself to take shots from the scantily clad waitresses pivoting their hips and winking at you with their fake eyelashes, you never knew how useless it made me feel. I remember when you fondled the threadwork covering one of their breasts before sloppily kissing her from her shoulders to her lustrous lips, if only you could've seen the look on my face. Before I could confront you, you swung the mircophone stand around and smacked me across the face and I fell on the checkerboard of two small children with sweet faces. I know it was an accident, but damn did that hurt.

The nonchalant summer I spent with a broken nose and lung cancer was the same summer that you spent lying to your parents about us. You were ashamed because you weren't like those other boys who liked boobs and long hair, you liked penis and mustaches that tickled your face when lips touched and sparks flew. Did you remember that I was in Florence? I drank a lot of wine and learned about the renaissance and saw the statue of David. My mom told me that Venice would have been more exciting because she loved taking gondola rides when she was younger but I didn't care about what she wanted.

"You break my heart and rip me to shreds and fray my edges but I will always love you no matter what," I once said to you. It was a week before I left for Italy, I bought you a gold ring out of spite to make myself feel better. A couple boys teased me as I walked myself home from the jewelers. They threw a pink boa at me and demanded that I put it on, when I bluntly declined they tied it around my throat and tried to hang me from the gutters but when it failed they broke my nose and took the ring. I cried and plugged my bleeding nostrils with some feathers from the boa. It was unfortunate but it's life and I couldn't remember anyone's face because of how many times they hit me over the head with a crowbar. "Everything I do is out of love."

I sent you postcards and letters and songs from local bands but you never wrote back. My mom said you moved on to an ugly girl with a unibrow and large teeth, she also told me that sometimes the girl hits you in public; she's seen bruises on your collar bone, arms, and legs. Even though it's not at all righteous to hit a woman, I would fight in your honor—if I ever learn how to throw a punch.

The surgeons ripped out my heartstrings while looking for the tumors and I asked if I could take them home with me. I didn't bother putting them back in, so I taped them to my sylvan wallpaper at the flat I stayed in, oh God, Florence was so beautiful. Once in a while during that summer I would tug on a string and its agony burned my lungs and put a strain on my tired heart.

When I got home I wanted to see you first but my stupid little sister grabbed the collar of my striped shirt and pulled me to ground, planting wet kisses across my face and atop my head. By then, some of my golden hair had grown back. She ignored the hollow in my chest and pounded my ribcage until I spit up blood on the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor, she kept apologizing and helped me clean up. I showed her my heartstrings, crusted with my blood and piety and sorrow. Scarlett cried for me and hugged me but I ignored her and drove to your house.

I knocked on your door and when you didn't answer I climbed through an open window. Raunchy moans and dirty talk seeped through the cracks in the walls, and when I opened your bedroom door I saw both of your naked bodies wrapped around each other, starving and yearning for skin and warmth. I swear I even heard the bones grinding and teeth scraping as you thirsted for each other's lips. When you finally looked up and covered yourselves you began screaming obscenities at me and broke my heart.

"What are you doing here!?" You shouted through clenched teeth.

"I love you," I whispered as I walked to the edge of the bed and took your face between my hands. It was surprising when you kissed me, but I didn't complain. Could you see the galaxies in my eyes?

The girl on your bed dropped her jaw and immediately scrambled to grab her clothes from around the room. It hurt me when you tried stopping her but she slapped you across the face and punched you in your arm, I could see the bruises my mother had told me about. "I don't know why I ever fucking liked you!" Her words cut my face. "Fags! That's all you'll ever be! Fags!" she spat. Then she left and you started crying and I thought it was pathetic when you said that you didn't want me.

I pulled my heartstrings from my coat pocket and showed you what you did. "No." You shook your head. "I didn't do that, I-I could never do that to anyone." I pushed them into your hands and left with the leaves crackling under my feet. You begged for me to come back, you still didn't have any clothes on and the neighbors son stared with his streetlight eyes.

Since then I have tried to move on but you have a special spot between my lungs because my heart no longer beats for you. I only breathe you, ash and pomegranate body wash and it chokes me and suffocates me but I have to deal because that's all I can do.