peeking through the cracks

words by Cayla Celis, art by Livs Sun

You open my door

and my sanctuary is no more

but

You go in and i let You

and i sit on the edge of my bed

listening,

waiting,

for something to go wrong

(and there’s always something)

Your cloyingly sweet voice

becomes convincing 

and i let it convince me

as You bring in a Christmas list of items: 

Walmart shirts, Lidl sweats, Filipino fruits.

Offerings, reminders of your love, 

and then at some point i feel guilt,

a needle that stitches my memories into something 

coherent;

it's sharp,

rips into the threads i've picked at

and then maybe for once my life

i understand what You are to me.

and then i hear the stitches rip.

i go on defense

You go on defense

and You leave and

when You leave

i look at the things i’ve framed

your words ten years ago,

that I’ve framed and hung on my wall

do you want me to kill you?

i framed them and all too, 

with the knife You held in Your hand, 

a knife sharper than guilt,

as you said them

and then i forgot about all that

until i looked 

up.

And then i start asking questions i can never answer,

i keep asking myself what does that make You, me, You and me?

i try to gain the courage to ask you

maybe step out my room but i keep hesitating,

right before your door,

i give up asking questions and leave

and leave my door open

just a crack for

Love;

Being loved;