Samson

Judas. 

Your betrayal hangs on you like a monk's cloak, dark and heavy. Waves of heat and nausea now wrack my body. Just the thought of you makes me break out in a cold sweat, my head spinning, my appetite gone faster than a vegan in a McDonald's.

You are casual in your toxicity, cool in your remorselessness, spitting out words to bruise: "Crazy!" So I steer clear. And you remain... living just beneath my skin, in my blood, present with every breath.

Delilah. 

Deception wielded with the skill of a marksman. Waves of lust and longing consume me, dulling my judgment. It leaves me weak at the knees, weakens my resolve. You exploit my weaknesses, leaving me wanting. I am hungry, my appetite for you a deep well; an empty pit: dank, dangerous, deadly.

 I am Samson to you; my hair, my sexuality, my faith in us, all cut away.

And you remain. You live where you once lingered... in the nape of my neck, the curve of my back, at the edge of reason.

I could say, “I miss you.” But “miss” is too shallow a word, too small to hold what you’ve carved out of me. “Miss” is for misplaced keys, not the breaking of heart and soul, flesh and bone. Your absence has hollowed me, gouged a crevasse in my center that echoes with every sigh, every involuntary groan that escapes me with each passing breath. I loved you knowing the cost. I carried you like fire, fully aware it could burn me to ash, but desperate for the warmth.

And when it did, I did not regret.

3:05 a.m.

Digital numbers flashing at me as if to rile. I groan. Oh sleep, you fickle friend, when did we part ways? I punch pillows, yank cold blankets up, burrowing under the covers. I reach an arm out into the offending cold and grab my mobile. I log onto WhatsApp seeking connection…you’re still there, like a ghost. Your pics taunting me.

“Check out my new pp,” you said.

“And that look in your eyes?” I asked.

“I was thinking of you when I took it...”

“Naughty and greedy,” I laughed, slightly drunk on lust.

I know that look. It tells the story of us in better times. It says, “I want you.” It screams, “I can feel you.” It mocks time and distance, sanity and peace.

I could say, “I wish I never met you.” But that would be a lie dressed in bitterness. Before you, I was flat, unfinished. With you, I became music, discord and harmony alike. And I cannot un-know that. So no, I don’t wish you away. I wish I could meet you again, start over, let you see the love that still burns beneath the rubble, hurt-coated but luminous, sharp as ice.

Like Samson, I rise. The glow of the screen casts long shadows on my skin. I stumble through the dark, a ghost in my own home, but I stumble forward nonetheless. Touching cold walls to steady me, I walk, purposefully, toward the light.