Pounding my head against myself, I finally fell and was picked up by the warm embrace of my love, who was big, strong, and totally scentful of flowery prose, with sensual, piteous lips, and eyes so shiny and pretty that I often lost myself in them, swimming in their dark waters, drowning over and over again, suffocating.
“You are home,” someone said but it wasn’t him and it wasn’t me, but we both nodded and went to sit down. He had made dinner as it was expected and I was eating gleefully, even though my stomachache was terrible and my migraine was drilling all sides of my brain.
“Tell me about your day,” he said.
He smiled so sweetly that I felt compelled to tell him, to hold him and say that he wasn’t the problem, the problem was I and my bad attitude and my awful stench, but instead, I threw the plate at the wall and wailed and demanded to be put to rest, to be gone away from this miserable existence, and just let my body decay as it was meant to be, as it had been doing since the day I was born.
He carried me and slammed my head against the toilet over and over, until all the pain from my headache became physical throbbing in my forehead, and I had puked all the stuff that was in my tummy. I felt momentarily better, as it was expected, and then he threw me into the bed and tucked me in very firmly.
“You are going to sleep again.”
“And I have to, right? I have to or otherwise I would die,” I said, somehow hopefully. He encouraged me with a nod and did my best to stay awake, but instead, I fell asleep in seconds and fell into the simplest of dreams, an explosion of emotion.
In the dream, I was skating across my lover’s face, slowly ripping the flesh from his cheeks to reveal a treasure inside. Little drops of blood, fell into my body, but they weighted and felt more like gold, a jewel that had imprinted upon me and was making me dance and laugh like I’ve never done before. I lay down on his torn skin and gently kiss what I thought were the lips, and then slowly went into the entrance of his nostril to explore where he was keeping his true love for me, not the fake glurge he greeted me everyday, but what he actually felt, what he actually wanted. And off I went amazed at paintings on the wall, graffiti sprayed, photos ripped apart, heads of past lovers hanging, until I got to the end, close to the eyes, where the world, the true person he was and wanted to be, was ready for my arrival. I stepped with my claws but before I could distinguish the shape of that feeling, of the emotion he held for me, a light like no other, blinded me and fried me from tongue to throat, burned my eyelashes, melted my hair, salted my teeth, broke my bones, stomped my muscles, and gave me the creeps. I swallowed the light, whimpering, crying, and begging for it to stop.
When I woke up, I was sweaty and stinky, and he was standing next to me. He kissed me very beautifully, and let his warmth comfort me.
“Why did you dream that? Why did you dream that?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to say and simply chuckled because it was all over, as my migraine came back, and the prospect of loving for another day, living barely, filled with utmost sickness.