Spilled Ink

The Crater

For years I’ve been dancing around the crater of wound

Ignoring the hunger, the pleading, the blistering screams

Daring myself to laugh at soulless skins drowning inside the burning pit

Fucking idiots, I would say. I pitied the weak.

And then I slipped. My feet touched a corner oozing with pus and I screamed his name.

The memory burrowed out of the marrow of my bones. A dimpled chin. A tuft of black hair, darker than a cloak of nightmare. Shots of laughter bottled inside the core of the sun. Stolen kisses on the cream sofa. Long and infinite warm hugs. Caramel stuffed clog porcelains. Hot chocolate flavored tea on silver tray. Homemade guacamole. Fingers licking pungent pumpkin curry. Purple checked shirts. Accent tags. Eyes like pools of amber nectar. Heart that reached out and dutifully mends.

Like a little goldfish, I’m breathless in the palm of his hands.

Put me in the crater, dear. I promise I won’t climb out again.

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