@tvgrief / jasper : how does it feel to be in love ?
is that it ? is that what it is ? the maw and throat in his hands , however he pleases. you , dangling on the hook , straining against the leash. is that his love ? is that yours when you sink your teeth into his jugular and know he'll come back ? when he nails your coffin this time , is it in the cemetery of your love ? will you bury another for him ? is that your love ? a graveyard. a slaughterhouse. who are you if there's no blood ? if there's no sting in the cut ?
i guess . . . i guess that could be. when there is nothing and there is no one again , there's always him. if that's my love , what does that make me ?
you turn away. you no longer want to look at jasper across from you , so you don't. the bedsheets are hot , full of dirt , full of blood , the same as your chest and your lungs. choking on it , choking it down. ( doesn't he know i love him ? i won't bury him too , doesn't he know that ? am i not . . . have i not . . . ) maybe your love isn't enough. shame has a way of devouring you , never leaving something whole behind. there is nothing else to see after all : he sees you and your love now. he doesn't ask you about himself : he asks about him. who you bleed for. who opens you raw , bares the worst of you with only teeth. shows the truth of you. ( maybe sammy's right. )
you don't want to look at him. you love him but your love is ugly and you've failed. at what ? you don't know. to show him you love him or failed to be something other than a wound or a nail. your love can't be warm , isn't that a given ? you should know that by now. even as a child , you were a difficult , hard to love thing. ❛ it's not that. it's not. don't think of that as . . . please. it's more , don't you don't. ❜