Writing Wholeness

On honey and ashes:

It used to be

The peace hit as I curled my fingers around the handle of the gas can

“I’m done with this”

A match tossed behind and my shadow splayed ahead

Dances with flame and smoke and ash

The sulfur and the fuel fill my lungs as I inhale without a second thought

An island with “no entry” posted at every charred mausoleum

I’ve made of every man who came before him

“Here lies yet another failed attempt.”

Flicking lighters again and again

Scraping matches across my knowing grin

I am a self-sustained society, population 1

Goodbye?

The easiest word.

Flows from my lips smooth as honey

Until he offered a sip of love from a spoon

And on the breath of a lingering kiss

I learn that

Given enough time

Sugar ferments

The span of my hesitation was just enough

For a touch that didn’t leave me trembling

For the scent of his skin to overpower the charred pages of a book I titled

“Us”

And my whispered retreat lingers bitter on my breath

Flick the lighter, Samantha

What once roared between my ears now pleas in barely a whisper

Every version of me brought to my knees

As he watches

Knowing

Another glass of water in his outstretched hand

I’ll cut my tongue out

Before I’ll say goodbye again

He asked me once to hold him and paint pictures with my words

The world as I saw it more beautiful to him

Than any pictures I offered in silence

His meandering reverent through the halls of a home I never imagined I’d become

Fingers tracing cracks in my foundation

Marveling at every hole I patched and painted

“Look at how broken I am.”

The record skips and loops

But he’s humming along and the lyrics I write promise possibility

Honey turns to mead

But I’d rather be drunk on this lie

Than ever taste ashes again

If it means he becomes a monument to my capacity of self-love

On my knees at the edge of a free fall

Flicking the lighter and holding the flame until my flesh melts

And he smiles

That infuriatingly simple way he always does

Even as the honey drips from his chin

Knowing

I’ll let him rot into the soil he tracked onto the welcome mat

The same legs that trembled under the weight of what I couldn’t say as he held me

“You’re safe”

Every version of me stands

Bleeding colors he calls art

I’ve become a foreigner in my own country

But I don’t need a map to find my way back

To lay flowers at his feet

The lingering aroma of burnt bridges I name

“Hope”

“Love”

“Maybe”

Overpowered

By the garden he’s become