you, you, it’s always about you. it’s fine when you’re gone; i can make myself believe that you don’t count. it’s when you come back that i fall to pieces, shattered like a vase at your feet. i don’t know why you do this, why you can do this, why you want to do this, or even why i let you do this to me. you violate me. i heard you knock on the door, i heard your voice by the window, i heard your hand on the doorknob. and my breathe froze in my chest and my heart leapt into my throat and and my mind started clicking a million miles an hour without going anywhere and my limbs felt like they were dipped in acid. yes, that’s it; i felt sour everywhere: my fingertips, my feet, my internal organs, my cheeks, my vulva, everywhere. just because i knew you were near. i didn’t answer the door beacause i knew i’d either run into your arms or choke you to death. a curious, heavy, stifling feeling grew in the hollow at the base of my neck as i listened to you leave. must you always ruin my plans to build my own secrets? you always anticipate my every move. it makes me nervous and anxious and too in love with you. it’s better when you’re gone, but not right away. for about a week i’ll sit by the door, listening for you and jumping at every sound, hoping it’s you. it won’t be, of course, and after a while i’ll get tired of waiting for you and i’ll stop shivering. you make my fingers turn cold and then my hands start to shake unless i clench them into fists. my sister says i tremble, but then i think i sound like a leaf. i don’t shake or tremble; i shiver. you make me cold. i wish you hadn’t come back to see me. it would have been easier that way, easier for me. i can’t bring myself to tell you to go away, for how can one tell a part of one’s body to leave? yes, i’ve let you integrate yourself into me, perhaps too much so. but i’ll wait, and i’ll wait, and inevitably i’ll get along without you. until the next time you come.
