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Staring down the barrel of the hot sun
The warmth of the sun hits my skin softly through the gold medallion tree leaves. It’s one of those days where Tyler doesn’t need to do anything, so he asked me to follow him out to a nearby park, something about “kicking some squirrels to teach them their place”. After about seven minutes of looking for the small critters, he ended up sitting under the tall tree, tapping his hand on the ground to ask me to sit at his side.
Shining with the sheen of a shotgun (shotgun)
I sit down, finding my spot next to Tyler’s warm body. His heat radiates and comes to me like a soft blanket, telling me only good things can happen to me. As I touch the ground I can feel the Earth welcoming me, and I understand subconsciously that’s only because Tyler’s with me. I lay my back against the tree, and Tyler moves me around a little bit, placing his warm calloused hand on my arm, gently caressing it.
Carol has a little if we need some
The harshness of the tree bark grating my back contrasts Tyler’s gentle fingers on my skin, his hands calloused and rough from the fights. Yet his roughness fills the gaps left by the scars on my skin, empty without him. His head rests gently on my shoulder; fitting perfectly in that space, as if it had been carved out for him. I’m almost certain it has. My body, I sometimes think, has been carved out from the marble remaining of Tyler’s sculpted figure; we fit each other like puzzle pieces.
Joa has a ride if we wanna come
I say something stupid, and Tyler laughs loudly. His laugh travels through the Earth, bouncing through the trunk of the tree, resonating through my body, igniting an inner flame I had thought long gone. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to do that; but Tyler can do anything, really. If the world had felt gray and muted in colors before, Tyler’s laugh managed to give them all back to their original vibrance. I feel it’s a bit too bright for me sometimes, but I don’t tell Tyler.
Hanging your jeans with a clothes pin
I think of Marla again. I wonder what she’s doing today; she’s supposed to go to the brain worm support group, with their free coffee and their communal hugs. I haven’t seen her since our first meeting, in her black dress, crossing the road as if she was unable to be killed; or, on the contrary, like she was trying to. She’s strong, Tyler tells me, she’s fine. I believe him. The sun diffusing through the tree leaves golden patches of light on his face, and for an instant he looked Holy.
Skin still wet, still on my skin
I gently caress Tyler’s hair, pressing each strand of hair between my fingers. I make sure not to pull his hair; I always think he’s the most delicate thing I have in this life. I’m strong, he assures me. And I listen to him. I observe the way his hair is all shades of dirty blond, some strands lighter and some darker, mixing together to form the most dreamlike color. It’s impossible not to see Tyler’s beauty. I sometimes feel all poems are written about him.
Mango in your mouth, juice dripping
I feel Tyler’s face start to shift towards my neck, and I welcome it without much fight. His hair brushes my neck, and it’s soft as cotton. His lips are familiar, warm, and his kisses leave pleasant patches on my neck. Tyler’s kindness towards me is something I could never comprehend fully. I worship it, worship him, thanking him in my mind for his affections. He is my light.
Shoulder of your shirtsleeve slipping
Tyler readjusts himself next to me, and I observe the way his cut figure turns, his shirt hanging on his chest lighty, its tightness revealing the shape of his muscles. He places a hand on my cheek, his calloused fingers rough to everyone, soft to me. I can feel Tyler’s restraint, his care towards me, like he was aware of his capability to hurt me but deliberately chose not to. It’s impossible not to love Tyler.
Christmas Eve with your mother and sis
Tyler’s face approaches mine, and I feel time stop as I study his features. The way his hair gently rests on his forehead, his eyebrow ridge holding his brows perfectly, sitting right on top of his turquoise eyes. His nose is shaped to perfection, highlighting the middle of his face. It’s not an area most people notice; on Tyler, I notice everything. I lower my eyes to touch his lips with my gaze. They’re red and wet and the way they approach mine makes me delirious.
Don't wanna fight but your mother insists
Tyler’s lips gently touch mine, soft and warm against my cold skin. I still wonder what Tyler sees in me. I can feel the tips of his facial hair brushing against my chin. I welcome its burn; anything given to me by Tyler is a gift. I reciprocate the kiss, breathing in his scent, his passion, his love, and I can feel his chemical gift on my hand throb. I ignore its call, Tyler’s love is more important to me.
Dog's white teeth slice right into my fist
The kiss doesn’t last long, but I don’t complain. You don’t refuse Tyler. In my head I wish it had lasted longer, and I place my hand on his shirt, gently pressing it between my index finger and my thumb. The shirt is cotton, white and soft between my fingertips. It’s cut short; I can see Tyler’s happy trail running from right above his belly button down to under his pants, in the middle of his very prominent V-shaped lower abdomen, and I think about the wonders hidden under the jean fabric. I keep quiet, impure thoughts unfit for Tyler.
Drive to the ER and they put me on risk
Tyler gets up, small leaves still stuck on his back and lower. The dirt left a mark of its presence on Tyler, the way he did on me. When I’m away from Tyler, I get the innate desire to burrow myself far into the Earth, in an attempt to hide away from God and from Tyler. I don’t want to disappoint Tyler, so I never tell him about these kinds of feelings. I often think I’m born with them. Maybe Tyler can free me.
Grocery store list, now you get this
Tyler gives me his hand, helping me up. A small gesture yet enough to make me feel something. He looks at me with that usual smile of his on his lips, as if he always knew more about the world than I did. It’s true, in a sense. Tyler always does seem to know what I think, sometimes even before I think about it. I let him have this space in my brain, and as I think that, he gives me a crooked smile as if he yet again knew immediately. I like to think he did.
Unchecked calls and messages
We don’t let go of each other’s hands, and Tyler squeezes mine lightly, almost as a way to indicate his presence in front of me. He’s trying to tell me he exists; I believe him. Truthfully, when I see how the flower petals fall on his face and the way his crooked teeth fit all together, or even the way the light hits his face and makes his skin reflect like the top of the water of a lake, I realize that there is no way he isn’t real. No man could make up someone like Tyler.
I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy
Tyler lets go of my hand, and I keep my arm up in the same position as it was in when I had his presence. He doesn’t say anything, simply walking away, and I instinctively know not to follow him. When I say that Tyler always knows what I’m thinking, I also know everything Tyler knows. If he doesn’t want me to follow him, I don’t. I watch him walk away, feeling a throbbing ache in my heart and in the front of my brain. The feeling will pass.
I just wanna be a part of your family
As I watch him walk away, I feel a cold teardrop escape my eye. It finds its way through the crevices of my face towards my mouth, and its salty taste overtake my tongue where Tyler had once been. The taste is familiar, almost comforting. This feeling of missing is the same I felt before meeting Tyler; I had never really known completion quite like being with him. It’s a really strange feeling, to go from total emptiness filled with materialistic illusions, to having a presence as filling as Tyler’s.
And I don't wanna talk about anything
As I feel Tyler leaving, the air gets colder and crispier. I can feel it slowly creep on my skin, making its way from my extremities to my very core. It’s not a coldness I’m unfamiliar with; the space inside my mind is filled with the same. It’s dark. That’s where I first talked to Marla. Tyler has never been in that space, I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t think it’s fit. He doesn’t like the cold, never did.
I don't wanna talk about anything
I start walking towards our house. The light the sun once shone is now overshadowed by fragments of clouds sprinkling the sky, and my walk is silent. I feel a presence next to me, yet the hole is empty. When I look there, Tyler’s face blurs, as if I was forgetting his likeness. I quickly focus my eyes on the path in front of me, my tears somehow still running. I think about seeing Tyler in the kitchen, maybe making something for us.
I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again
I find comfort in the thought that Tyler is home, waiting for me. When I still lived in my desolate condo, there was no comfort to seek from the Ikea furniture waiting for my arrival from work. The blankets were never soft enough, the tables never sturdy enough, and the kitchenware was too clean. And above all else, Tyler was missing. He’s missing again, right now. The colors have dimmed and the wind is ruffling the grass and fallen leaves on the ground, as if time didn’t stop when Tyler wasn’t there.
Wanna witness your eyes looking
I finally get to the house. The colors don’t gain vibrance as I step up the stairs, and I don’t feel the completeness I felt when Tyler was here. I push the door, heavier than usual, and enter the empty house. The floors creak under the weight of my footsteps; it’s not a sound I hear when Tyler walks. I place my hand on the tarnished yellow-green wallpaper, and it flails, falling from the wall. The wallpaper always looked livelier when Tyler was here.
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I start walking up the stairs, feeling the wood devoured by termites fail slightly under my feet. The wood feels soft and almost wet; I feel the house starting to crumble without Tyler’s presence. Or maybe that’s just my mind. I finally get to the first floor, and as I step on the broken down floor I feel splinters cutting through the weak sole of my shoes. They penetrate my skin, but I don’t feel a thing; nothing hurts if it’s not inflicted by Tyler.
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I slowly walk to my room, without real purpose, hoping to maybe get some rest. As I waddle through the darkened yellow corridors, I feel my skin start to rot. I look at my arms, hoping to see some proof that I can still feel correctly; but there’s nothing. The feeling is entirely in my head; maybe Tyler could’ve told me that. The swamp green wallpaper of the first floor guides me menacingly into my room, and I follow without much fight.
I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving
I enter my room, desolate and empty. It consists of a single dirty mattress on the floor, a thin blanket in faded pink, and a worn down pillow that doesn’t really support my head anymore. The bed is supposed to be a one space mattress; yet, Tyler always finds his spot next to me, leaving enough space for both of us. He has his own bed, and he usually sleeps there. But sometimes he knows I’m having a sleepless night again, and he comes to gently hold my body, offering a semblance of comfort.
Lay on your lap when I'm crying
As always, we never speak about these small instances of affection. It took a while to get anything from Tyler, and when it happened, it was clear that nothing was to be said about it. I relish the idea that only I get to experience his love like this. It’s secretive and tender and surprising, but it’s for me only. I don’t think I could take the heartbreak of sharing Tyler with anyone. He is my light.
Circle of pine and red oak
Tyler’s tenderness also shines through during our fights together. When he fights another, I can tell the way his muscles contract and the way his punches land on the other man’s face indicate he punches with rage, like he’s fighting with the intended purpose of the club. But when we get in the ring, and everyone’s eyes are on us, I feel his punches and his hits on me like a gift, as if he was trying to hug me, to teach me how to be whole again. Every punch that cuts through my skin is like a kiss from him.
Circle of moss and fire smoke
Whenever we came back from fights, especially if the wounds were inflicted by Tyler, he liked to take the time to observe them, the way they lasted on my skin, the way his fingers moved the skin around it, and how the blood glistened on his skin and the way my body jerked around when he pressed his fingertips inside the wound. There was a sort of morbid curiosity with Tyler; I could never do the same, to him or to myself. But I never minded.
Fan on the ceiling like a wheel spoke
I walk towards the mattress, slowly laying down, feeling the entire weight of my body fall onto the bed, its rusty springs catching my fall. Tyler’s shape is next to me, empty, cold. I can’t stand to touch it. I call his name softly, knowing that even miles away he could’ve heard me; his presence doesn’t resonate in the house still. I pull the blanket over me; it doesn’t warm me like Tyler did. I start to miss him.
Push the clutch and I pull the choke
My eyes don’t close, and my brain doesn’t shut itself for the night. I lay awake, barely blinking, watching the time pass as the sun’s light shines lowly through the only window in my room. It’s a small window, with a single thin curtain, that couldn’t block out any light even if I were to fully pull it over the dirty glass. So I just let it be, casting a soft shadow on the wooden floor.
Wanna listen to the sound of you blinking
The sound of the water making its way through the pipes soothes my bothered brain. I close my eyes, and start to imagine grand green grass fields with small white flowers sprinkled on it, a soft and warm breeze gently kissing each strand of grass. I imagine a stream next to it, the water a little cold when I put my feet in. But most importantly, Tyler is next to me. Imagining his presence immediately takes me back to my reality.
Wanna listen to your hands soothe
I can hear his house breathing. The floorboards creaking lightly, the wind gently brushing against the doors, a window left open downstairs slowly knocking on the wall behind it. I feel the house breathing for me, as if Tyler was communicating with me, telling me to keep living without his presence. I refuse to listen to it; I cannot be alive if Tyler isn’t here with me. I burrow the side of my face in the pillow in protest.
Listen to your heart beating
Tyler’s heartbeat comes back to my memory as the sound of the house goes quieter. I place my hand on the floor, as if it could vibrate through the Earth, sending small shockwaves from wherever he is to me. I feel something; I start to think the house is trying to help me again. It’s to no avail. I place my hand over my chest, trying to feel my heartbeat. Just as I thought, nothing pumps in it.
Listen to the way you move
I sometimes imagine flowers growing from my lungs when I talk to Tyler. Small buds of pink camellias bloom, accompanied by red and yellow carnations. As they bloom through my mouth, willow pierces through my skin, tangling itself with the bones of my ribcage. It’s not painful; I usually welcome the feeling. Maybe, if they were true, we could have fresh flowers around the house everyday. I hope Tyler doesn’t know this.
But I don't wanna talk about anything
The bed under me seems to be about to swallow me whole. I imagine it in the shape of a coffin, fitting my exact size. It lowers in the ground, and the hole dug out for me starts to obstruct my view of the gray sky. Even for my death the sky couldn’t bother; I don’t blame it. The pit is bottomless. As my vision darkens the sky suddenly clears its clouds, and I can distinguish a figure looking down on me. I know who it is.
I don't wanna talk about anything
I open my eyes again, and the sun has reached a golden color. The walls around me have found their once bright color again, and the floorboards don’t creak under the soft sounds of footsteps. As I look through the small window, the sky seems to have parted its clouds. The door downstairs closes with a gentle sound, and I feel life entering my body again. The rot dissipates from my skin
I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again
The house doesn’t breathe like it forced itself to for my sake anymore. The wind doesn’t bother the windows or the doors, and the blanket is almost warm on my skin again. I hear a window close downstairs, then footsteps slowly walk up to the first floor; my floor. I don’t indicate my presence; Tyler is aware I’m here. I wonder if he knows I was waiting for his return.
Wanna witness your eyes looking
I hear footsteps walk through the corridor to stop in my door frame. I turn my head to see familiar shoes; Tyler never bothers to take them off except for when he gets into bed. I follow the shoes as they slowly seem to step towards me. As they step it seems as if the floorboards were gaining their shine again. I almost see grass growing under each of his steps, the small white flowers from my dream following it.
I don't wanna talk about anyone
Tyler stops in front of me, then drops to my level, squatting. He gently takes my hand in his and presses a soft kiss on it. Thank you for waiting for me, he says. I didn’t mean to take so long. It’s okay, I reply. Tyler doesn’t apologize; he never needs to. He caresses my hardened knuckles, going over each individual scar, taking good care not to touch his kiss. His gift. I thank him in my mind again.
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I look at his face for an instant. Strands of his hair gently rest on Tyler’s forehead, a little shimmery. The shine of the sun glows on his red sunglasses, reflecting that warm light back on his cut cheeks. I lower my gaze to his lips, always the object of my admiration; they never seem to dry or crack like average peoples’ do. They’re always soft for me, even with cuts and scars. They’re one of my favorite features of Tyler’s.
Wanna sleep in your car while you're driving
Tyler lets go of my hand, placing it back on my chest. His warmth radiates through my clothing, heating up my insides. It always surprises me when he does this; it's a subconscious act; he does it out of the kindness of his heart. I follow his steps as he walks around the mattress, sitting down on it next to me. He silently takes off his shoes, placing them at the foot of the bed.
Lay in your lap when I'm crying
Tyler lays down next to me, the space carved out for him welcoming him. I hope he knows I have that space within me too. His hand takes mine again, pressing it against his chest, and he moves his head next to mine. I sigh silently; the completeness he brings me fills the void in my ribcage and my stomach again. I feel small red rosebuds and hydrangeas grow in my now beating heart.
Weren't we the stars in Heaven?
I imagine the roof suddenly cracks open to reveal a clear navy blue sky sparkling with bright white stars. They’re actually suns, Tyler tells me, and their warmth can be told by their color. He tells me red ones are cold, and blue ones are warm. I look over at him, and his shirt is light blue. He shows me constellations and the milky way, resting right above our heads. I see his constellation; it shines brighter than every other star. I squeeze his hand gently, to feel his presence.
Weren't we the salt in the sea?
Our mattress turns into sand, and I imagine the feeling of lukewarm water hitting our feet softly. I run my hand in the sand, hot from the golden sun. The ocean covers most of the Earth’s surfaces, Tyler tells me. Most minerals are found there. I imagine laying in the water, the salt carrying the weight of my sins; Tyler does the same to me, when he holds my hand over his chest, running his fingers over mine. Sometimes I feel I could drown in his everythingness. Sometimes I wish I did.
Dragon in the new warm mountain
The grass field from earlier appears under my body again, and I turn my head to face a small white flower. They’re daisies, Tyler tells me, small and white like this. If you remove its petals one by one, it can tell you if someone likes you. He hands me a flower, and watches me count them down one by one. As I remove each petal I feel Tyler’s fingers wander on my skin, and I don’t even count the petals anymore. The answer comes to me obvious.
Didn't you believe in me?
I’m aware all of those scenarios are in my head, yet I like to believe Tyler can see them too. I wonder if he’s ever experienced anything like this. He tells me he’s never seen skies so clear and stars so bright, sand so gently warm and water so blue, or grass so soft under his touch. I like to think maybe we have a somewhat similar effect on each other; maybe his colors are, too, a little more vibrant with me at his side.
Yeah, you held me the whole way through
The ground reforms itself again under our bodies. Tyler wiggles his arm under my neck, placing his fingers on my head, playing with the strands of my hair. Each small touch of his allows me to see colors never before perceived by the human eye. Only mantis shrimps can see that many colors, Tyler tells me. I wonder why he’s telling me all of this. In the back of my mind I think he’s just repeating things I’ve heard before.
When I couldn't say the words like you
Tyler places his other hand under my shirt, gently moving his hand up and down my chest. I feel as if I’m without skin, exposing only my skeletal form to Tyler. He runs his fingers over my ribcage, and the sound of his fingertips tapping against my bones sounds like drums. He moves his hand to my spine, and reaches into my ribcage, finding his way to my lungs and heart. Placing his hand on my lungs he starts breathing with me.
I was scared, indigo, but I wanted to
Tyler reaches my heart without much issue; he’s always been able to find it. He takes it gently in his hand, caressing it, and I feel our heartbeats connect. I think we’ve always been able to do that. Tyler gently takes the organ out of its cage, taking a moment to run his fingers over it. It can see it beat in his hand. It’s a frightening sight to see your heart so far from your insides; but it doesn’t scare me when it’s Tyler taking care of it.
I was scared, indigo, but I wanted to
Tyler presses a finger in my heart, blood spilling over his finger. I jolt in surprise, but it doesn’t hurt. Tyler knows this. He brings my heart to his mouth, removing his finger from the bruise, and licks the blood off his thumb. He presses his lips on it, his warmth engulfing me, and the spot left wet from his lips starts to burn. A kiss mark, similar to the ones on our hands, forms on my heart. I like to think this ties Tyler to me for the rest of eternity.
And I don't wanna talk about anything
Tyler gently places my heart back in its place, leaving a trail of my blood on my ribcage; or maybe it was already there. As his hand leaves my insides, my skin seems to reform around my bones. Tyler draws a heart on my chest, where my ribcage ends. I feel a drop travel down my stomach onto the side of my body, then reaching to my back to finally drop on the mattress below. Its cool temperature sends chills down my spine. My insides feel cold without Tyler’s presence in them.
I don't wanna talk about anything
Tyler licks the remaining blood off his fingers, wiping the excess from the side of his mouth. I watch it leave a trail on his skin, taking my thumb to try and rub it off. His skin is warm and soft. I sometimes wish Tyler would take me in entirely, eat every last bit of my muscles, allowing me to sustain him. You don’t have enough meat on your bones, Ikea boy, Tyler tells me. You know I’m right. I laugh dryly; I wonder if he knows what he really means to me.
I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again
I stay close to Tyler, silence filling our space. The window shines a soft glow from the sun; time hasn’t passed. Time never passes with Tyler. I think about our future fights; I feel a craving for Tyler’s violence. He stops caressing my hair, and I feel his heartbeat start to dissipate in the empty silence of the room; I try to hold on to it, to no avail. My body starts to gain its coldness back, and I can see crackles of ice growing on my arms.
Wanna witness your eyes looking
I blink. My head falls on my pillow and my body is in its original position. The wallpaper is cracking on the wall again, and the colors have faded from the world. I call out his name; no response. Even the house seems to have stopped breathing. I wonder if the tenth circle of Hell is simply an eternity without Tyler. Maybe the Earth has finally swallowed me whole and sent me there. I slowly sit up on the side of my mattress, looking at my feet, bloody from the splinters. I had forgotten about them.
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I get up from the bed and put on my worn down navy blue slippers. The dust sprinkled on top of them reminds me of a distant memory, and I walk thru the darkened corridor to the stairs. I stare down them, remembering a remnants of a presence. The wood creaks under my steps as I walk down, my body cumbersome and heavy. I feel each movement rough on me. The house doesn’t want to help with that anymore.
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I arrive at the tarnished kitchen, dirty pots, pans and other kitchen wares sprinkled over the counter into the sink. A cold morning breeze welcomes me through the broken windows that give into the backyard of the Paper Street house. If Tyler were here, he’d tell me that a Paper Street is the name given to a street that doesn’t appear on a map. He’d say it more eloquently; I’ve never been good with words. Only when I’m with Tyler do I feel adequate for anything.
I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving
I make myself a cup of coffee in the worn down coffee pot that seems to have found a permanent spot on the stove. The coffee is black and bitter, with an aftertaste of burnt metal. My tongue is used to that taste. I make two cups, and take mine out to the garden. This is not the first time I’m up this early; or I guess, up this late. I still can’t figure out if I fell asleep. There are a lot of things I can’t figure out.
Lay in your lap when I'm crying (ooh)
The cold air crisps on my nose, reddening it as I drink from the warm cup. The tips of my fingers join my nose as the morning dew settles on the leaves of the trees around the backyard. I watch as the sun rises gently, offering me a semblance of comfort. The house seems to wake up, and I tap my hand on the ground next to me as I hear the other cup get lifted from its spot. The colors seem alive again.