Tears She'll Never Cry

“I love you,” I’ll say as I ruin her life.

Nocse te ipsum, right? Know yourself. Well, I know myself, believe me.

I know that I’ll introduce lethal doses of deceit into the blue eye of her hurricane spirit. That I’ll turn her fervent dreams of freedom into blazing post-apocalyptic wastelands. That I’ll silence her quiet prayers for strength and change, transforming them into choked screams muffled by the down pillows on her mattress.

With three words of slow destruction from tightened lips, I know that I’ll forever stint her heart of free-flowing verse, forever bring the stroke of winter to once-green branches of her luminescent soul. The saline happiness that now moistens her eyes will soon repent itself into dammed, burning ducts that refuse to release their strength in time of need.

In spite of what I know, sanguine lust floods me - unstopped rivers of searing desire - as her small, soft hand reaches down the front of my brown corduroy Nauticas, grasping and usurping my fear. Unaware that she is my complete unraveling, my undoing, she spreads herself before me like a monarch’s Holiday feast.

* * * * *

“I love you,” she says as I drink wet death from her open, swollen places of need. The taste of bloodguilt lingers on my impure lips. I emerge, dripping, from a Sea of Non-Tranquility. I delight in bold violence, holding her head down and driving myself, fierce and furious, into the fissures of her soul. She moans and cries out to God under my hard act of sodomy, relishing every endless second of an unholy unification. Pain and pleasure together. All either of us has ever known.

I sow an evil seed, leaving irretrievable pieces of myself inside the circles of her body. My satellites, cast into her deeply plowed night, will forever orbit her haunted dreams. Soon I’ll reap a harvest of hatred and revulsion. Not necessarily of her, but of the person I become inside her as I brush sweat-dampened hair from her clenched eyes and flushed face. As I violate her pink shining lips. As I carelessly fuck the living heaven right out of her heart.

“I love you, too,” I say as I disregard her. The more bruises I give, the more she swallows me up. She spends long futile hours kissing my unfeeling scars. I tear at her. Choke her. Ravish her in forbidden, painful places. Until the sheets are stained with deceptively white passion. Until we lay entwined in a shallow pool of our own spent life-blood.

When we are finished, her last outcry of sated longing fills my ears as, breathless, she sighs, “I’ll love you forever.” It saddens me to know she really means it.

* * * * *

Nosce te ipsum.

It’s when I leave her that I’ll hate myself the most. And of course I will leave her.

Maybe it’s only when I’m inside her - or someone like her - that I feel connected to something unpolluted. But of course my existence changes that. I couldn’t even tell you how many souls I’ve wrecked in head-on collisions like this.

The stroke of midnight will come and find me waiting alone again, anticipating the moment when my teeth will be shattered by the angry fists of my just Creator. That’s what I want. What I need.

I really can’t bear the thought of the alternative.

~ Witt