I Love You, I Should Gouge Your Eyes Out

The last thing I want is to be away from you.

The last thing I need is for you to walk out that door and close it behind you.

I’d rather you sit with me for a minute. Look at me. See the tears in my eyes. Wipe them with your hand. Draw me to your chest and hold me there until my sobs subside.

Then pull away from me.

Take both my hands in yours and hold them tight. Make me feel like you will never let go. Squeeze the veins on my hands until they pop. I don’t care about blood flow right now. All I care about is to feel your hands covering mine. That way my heart will get the message. That you care. That you’re here. That you love me. That you’re not going anywhere. That my heart is safe with you. That no heart is breaking tonight.

Tell me. Say it. “No heart is breaking tonight, babe.” But first, before you utter a word, look at me. Look into my eyes. Because these two eyeballs are the windows to my soul. So look through these windows. Make them believe your words. Because if my eyes believe them, maybe my heart will buy into the lie. And it will feel happy. And the tears will dry up. And the sobbing will stop. And no heart will break tonight.

Sit with me. Talk to me. About our future. About our babies. About our wedding. Or maybe in the reverse order. I don’t care. Tell me how we will celebrate fucking anniversaries and birthdays together. How we will raise children and see them through college together. How we will meet our grandbabies for the first time together. Tell me how we will grow old together. How we will retire together. Hold hands every evening by the fireplace as we read. Together.

Let me lay my heavy head on your pillowy lap as you run your fingers through my afro, my wig, my weave, whatever. Let’s listen to silence for a bit. You and I. Just us. You can interrupt the silence with your fucking breathing, I don’t mind. I will interrupt it with my pounding heart. Because I will be lying on your throbbing lap. And a throbbing lap gives birth to a throbbing heart. I will mind the interruption of silence from these quarters though. Because this particular interruption will lead to other interruptions. You can destroy the silence with a kiss to my cheek. Why bother if I mind. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll turn my face up and make my lips available to you. Feel free to get in there. Make me forget I was crying. Make me forget that I’m tired.

It would be nice to be touched by you. Gently, please. Kissed out of my fucking mind. And out of my tears too. Touched from head to toe, on every inch of my body that throbs for you. Because throbs are contagious like that. Because throbs travel like a river. From the slopes of a clenched fist to settle in soft punchable places.

Let’s keep lying to this heart of mine. Not an inch of my body is sore. And I didn’t wince when you kissed my lips. I’m fine. You love me. You care. Your boots left an imprint on my neck, but it barely hurts. And I love you. I love you. I love you. Tell me you love me. Let my heart hear these sweet words coming from your mouth. Say it again. Say it before my heart wakes up and realizes that it’s hurting. That it’s breaking. Kiss my sore stomach. Let the coolness of your saliva heal it. Kiss my broken lips again. Taste my blood. Can you taste the heartbreak? No? I thought so. There’s no broken heart here. There’s nothing but good vibes here. Happiness resides here.

This should feel good. Good is not how this feels though. Why can’t I put a finger on how this feels? I mean, I think it’s right. We, me and you, we’re right. So what if we argue sometimes? So what if you miss the wall sometimes and hit me instead? We both know you were aiming for the wall behind me. I can’t fault you for that. People have different personalities. Some are loud, some are quiet like me and others have a temper like gasoline. It just lights up and bursts into flames. And that’s you. My gasoline.

Burn me. Kiss my broken lips again. Take a bite. Numb the pain I feel on the inside. I need to feel something. Anything. Pain is also something. You love me. I love you.

You are racing on top of me. My body is tired. Lifeless. My mind is racing like you are. I want you to love me. I want you to stop fucking touching me. I want you to keep kissing me. I want to break your fucking neck. Your hand is on my neck. You are pressing me down to the couch. I am the couch. You are my gasoline. Light me up. Drive the numbness away.

I love you. I should gouge your eyes out.

I’m so tired. I don’t remember the last time my eyes were dry. Now my tongue is dry too. I’m panting like a dog on a hot day. Burn me to ashes, Gasoline. Or feed me to the dogs, piece of meat that I am. I think I feel something. The soaking between my legs.

Pull away from me.

You’re so tired. You unload off me. You pick the bottle of water from the table and drink it all. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just drink my tears. My heart is beating fast. I pull my skirt down. I button up my blouse. I’m about ready for your speech now. You love me. You’re sorry. You’ll try not to get angry next time. I should stop making you so angry…

They won’t stop. The tears won’t stop. Your hands come for mine again. My skin crawls. Don’t fucking touch me. I need to stand as far away from you as possible.

The last thing I want is to be anywhere near you.

I hate you so fucking much.

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10 thoughts on “I Love You, I Should Gouge Your Eyes Out

  1. I love you too much that it hurts. But still I want you too much because you, you are my gasoline. You burn me. I hate you.

    So many emotions.

    Maybe love was supposed to hurt to be felt.

    beautiful writing.

    @queen_kui_ – IG

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