Absolution

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I want you to be consistent more than I want to hear I love you. Because I love you are three words that can be blurted out on the spur of the moment or over shots of tequila, but consistency is sober actions and conscious thoughts.

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Our mothers tell us that
there are no monsters
under our beds,
or hidden inside our closets
but they don’t warn us
that sometimes monsters
come dressed as people
that claim to love you
more than the sun
loves the moon.

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And it’s not like I want you officially, like I want your last name or your Sunday mornings or your hard shiny promises, I just want to absorb you. I want to know what you know, to hear your stories, to filter through them gently and get lost in them, them and the soft hypnosis of your hands in my hair.

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“after five days of silence, i wake up to a text message from you saying good morning.

i respond with "it’s not all good.” you ask me why. i say i went to the gym yesterday and my muscles hurt.

in the midst of telling me about your soggy breakfast, undisturbed sleep and your dream last night about penguins, you seem to be attempting an apology for the last two weeks.

we’d had an argument you see, about where this was going. but the word sorry is not an easy shape for your lips. they would rather make small talk and pretend these wounds have covered over, our uncertainties have healed.

but i’m still in pain. “stretch them,” you say. you’ve got to keep doing it till your body gets used to being used.

all i wanted to tell you then, was that your heart is a muscle too.“