Work Text:
You always wanted her, somehow.
A girl made of purity and resilience, belligerent, your god and your universe, the flower from which you pluck petals off of and ask yourself, do you love me or do you love me not?, that which you worship, the woman your lips brush softly against, warm water bubbling at the corner of your mouth, a metallic taste, the ash in your lungs, the bullet in your neck.
You run your fingertips over her name.
The universe is in your palm, giving and sweet, ready to give herself up for you, a masterclass in sincerity and guile so cunning that it hurts you to speak of, you love her even though it was never enough, girl that you think of when you slip your hand under your shirt and smile for the cameras, you pretend it is just her and you, you keep her without losing yourself.
You are in love.
Green, sparkling, glimpses into another universe where you exist, in a garden, snowflakes falling gentle in your palm, a strange kind of ice that powders and does not quite melt, a grief you cannot quite name in your eyes, the eyes of love that stare back at you from behind dull reflections of yourself, your chubby hands on her cheeks, pull her in closer, fit yourself into her mouth, begging and begging, what do you ask of her? What can you ask for when you already have her?
Your life has always had her in it.
Somewhere along the way, past the fish tanks, the translucency of your dress, diaphanous, pink, the beeping collars, the oxygen mask at your mouth, vacuumed and sweating with your condensing breaths, the rigorous training, the wires, the taped leads, the machines, the crowd of men thrice your age undressing you with their eyes, the water trickling down the heaving valley of your breasts, the sex symbol, the girl at your feet staring at you in shock, your sunken and bleeding eyes looking back at her; you became a goddess unworthy of her worship.
Your life has always revolved around her.
Through her black-laced fingers in yours, gentle press of your lips to the swell of her fingertips, her palm red and raw and stinging against your cheek, her divine punishment and ordinance for your sin, your goddess, your faith now cracking and fraying at the seams, worn out, the horror in your eyes as you meet her gaze through the curling smoke between you, the tentacles and slime reaching out towards your unblemished, innocent image; your worship now wayward, your devotion confounded.
You, bathed in an edifice of light. The girl who laid herself naked upon your bloodstained altar and begged for the mercy of your lips. The follower who you cannot lose.
The goddess you are devoted to, her eyes of love a crushing weight. You are dead with and without her, your universe, your clematis. The goddess who you cannot lose.
But,
You are losing her.
But,
You are losing her.
In this lifetime and the next, between cigarette puffs and collared necks,
In this lifetime and the next, between bullet wounds and bite marks,
Still,
You are losing her.
Still,
You are losing her.
If love is a crime, this woman must be a criminal.
If love is a crime, this grief must be a punishment.
The goddess
and the devotee.
You are losing her.
You are losing her.
You are losing her.
You are losing her.
YOU'VE LOST HER.
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