#aro prose

he confessed on a spring day and i told you only how it made me afraid you said i took it the worst way

takes courage to be bold, you told me, don’t be so cold, you scolded me he has a heart of gold he would have sold to me but my heart is just a muscle

so i lied to him that i loved him and our romance was a whirlwind and to him it was probably heaven but i was guilty as sin

because since the beginning, our ending was on the wall in my handwriting because love is only a feeling and my heart is just a muscle

and i never batted an eye when he said for me he’d leave all he’d known behind and there were no tears, it was bone dry when he wrote me i never replied

but do you recall how i sobbed, how i cried when you told me i should die i guess you thought i wouldn’t mind because my heart is just a muscle

well this heart of stone, you bloodied this mosquito heart, you won it the barrel of my tears you bathed in i did always say you could do anything

pretending at love might have been my crime most heinous but what you did in the name of love is still the cruelest

so riddle me this when you train it, if it hurts does it not grow strong? when you strain it, if it rips does it not heal wrong? when you fall and you bleed, won’t the blood clot? what then do you think happens to a bleeding heart?

my palms are dry my stomach calm my heart beats well within normal parameters

my cheeks are cool my speech fluid my every step one after another in a straight line

yet i know it

because the truth is more mundane: i’m not sick with love i’d be sick without it i’m not drunk in love i’d drink myself dead if i don’t have it

so i know it

We met at a party, Acquaintances that became something more. 3 years went by, then You got down on one knee in front of my door. There were roses at the wedding. I wore white, we exchanged rings. And those are the half-truths we tell

But the whole truth is: We first met at a gay bar. My first words to you were, “Do you have a lighter?” You did. That was convenient.

The whole truth is: The second time we met, I asked, “Do you want to try a relationship?” You did. That was convenient.

The whole truth is: I was the one who proposed first. I woke up one morning and asked, “Do you want to get married?” You did. That was also convenient.

The whole truth is: When you surprised me with the ring, I did not say, “I do,” I said, “Oh my god, fuck you!” Which was a little inconvenient.

The whole truth is: Romance is a worthless social construct. Marriage a wretched institution. Patriarchy can suck my non-existent balls. And I hated the hassle of our registration.

The whole truth is: I’m not in love with you But I love waking up next to you. I love arguing with you about cat litter. I love making you bring me water. I love kicking you in my sleep. I love arguing with you about the meaning of life. I love making us late to things. And now I can do all of that For as long as we live, if we’re lucky Because we’re married. I think that’s quite convenient.

let me miss you, friend although i made us strangers

let me miss your voice when i was first to fall silent

let me mourn your words when i never returned your letters

let me curse the distance between us although i walked away

let me yearn for you your half breaths when you giggled your consonants when you swore the stories you would tell me as i lay in bed between sleeps you wish me a good day

and when my fever broke when you found me gone, when you awoke perhaps you hated me a little perhaps you didn’t feel anything at all still as underserving as i am

let me miss you

I ran out of words to say So for a while we sat in the quiet I could see the wall colored by A mist of anger and emotion I stared through, fascinated by The translucent, impermanent you I reached out to touch, but You recoiled from me, so I withdrew.

You said, "This isn't like you," You said, "What's on your mind?" I shook my head, turned away Your eyes, they're like the sun I closed mine to the blinding pain, Dug around for an answer for you I mumbled to the family on our left, "Nothing." It was the truth.

I wish I could share my heart. You always wanted a cut, a share I was always eager to please. You liked to watch me bleed. But now, I wear a white red dress You can't come away clean. We're all dirtied with my effort. We're all crying ugly tears.

I'm a lucky girl, I'm a lucky girl I always got whatever I wanted in life. The world my oyster and my pearl. I wished not to feel, and inside I died. Now I wear my heart on my sleeve I make empty promises. I have long run out of fucks to give. Now I don't even want to live.

Here! Take it! Taste it! Can you feel it? Can you feel at all? Let me give it you, Do you know who it belongs to? You taught me it's bones You showed me it's teeth. It snarls strangled gnarled It's free, there are no more bars.

He He had made the reservations the day before. He bought new shoes. And on that day he smelled like vanilla. Issey Miyake.

She She was asleep when I called her at 2:00pm. She wore yesterdays jeans. And she smelt like her apartment. Aromatherapy.

He He ordered wine, house white, poured me a glass. The food was expensive and bland. He strategically placed his hand on the table Our knuckles brushed, I pulled back.

She She got a coca-cola, I asked for orange juice. She ordered nuggets to share. Our shoulders touched when we collected our tray. She was warm like a jacket.

He He bought roses and he got down on one knee. I don’t even like flowers.

She She got me a cat bracelet with a loose clasp and a box of menthols. I lit one for me and one for her.

He He said I love you. I couldn’t say it back because that wasn’t what he wanted. And we were hurt, angry and sad. But I still wonder, if he truly loved me... why wouldn’t he be my friend?

She She said you’re tiring, difficult, attention seeking You need to work on that. And I said I know, I know, I know I know I’m sorry I’m trying, I’m trying. Please don’t go. I love you, you’re my perfect friend. But she went.

I’m still screaming about her. With the long hair, red hair, short hair, green hair, with the sharp eyes, brown eyes, small smile, wide smile, harsh tone, angelic song, with the long stride, small steps, who smells like cheese, who smells like cake batter, who always worried about growing old and putting on weight, when she was always beautiful, whose words could hurt like a knife, whose words could change your life and I…

And I.

Always childish, always selfish, didn’t know anything but liked to act like I knew everything, always not enough, always talking, never listening, going on about the same old same old and I can’t stand it, I’ve cried in front of the mirror so many times, but I think I’m gorgeous, I never worry except I always do and I just keep screaming because I can’t let her go.

Except I can.

Enter you.

You with the short hair, long hair, bedhead, with one tattoo, with three tattoos, with glasses, with contacts, with the blinking when you get out of bed half awake, with terrible selfies but good photos, who smells like smoke, like prunes, like shampoo and deodorant, with boot cut jeans, graphic tees, with takeaway ramli, with the headrubs, with a game, with a computer review and I nod to the next few sentences but I don’t understand, with soft words comforting me at work, with soft words when I want death, with soft words when I’m drunk, with soft words when I cry, with soft words when I cry about her, with soft words, and I

I’m so happy that you love me.

It doesn’t hurt when you say you love me.

I’m so happy that your love doesn’t smell like Issey Miyake and roses.

I’m so happy that your love doesn’t taste like orange juice and nuggets.

I’m so happy that you aren’t tired even though I’m too much and difficult and hard to love and

Facebook says, On this day, I've got memories with you. Twitter's worried that I missed it, So I scroll through, Pages of your tweets. Oh Instagram, Thinks I am, Some kind of fan. Google asks if I meant your name. I don't mean to stalk, But if I don't know, I can't stay sane.

On this day, one year ago, They say I was with you. I wonder if you're seeing it too.

360 round a star. Like a panorama, We come back to square one, After we've begun.

In case you missed it,

We thought you might like,

to See first,

On this day,

but Did you mean,

It is 2009 and the 5 of us are a mess of lipstick and miniskirts, stuffed animals and tamagotchi, sitting in a circle on Michelle’s king sized bed, armed with sparkly pencils and colored paper. We are bright eyed, wide eyed, leaning over an older sibling’s laptop, scrolling through pages of white gold rings crowned with a single clear stone. A promise of forever that we all wanted.

5 years later, 4 years after we have fallen apart, when I finally admit to myself that we had splintered long ago and the shards are too fine to ever piece back together, I dig out the hot pink friendship bracelet with the rhinestone heart and hold it to my chest. I wonder if instead of bangles I had bought those rings for us, if it would have linked us somehow or if they would have also sat unworn and unwanted in the bottom of childhood jewelry boxes.

It is 2015 and we are a blur of laughter and first times, joined hands and cheap wine. We lie with each other on a couch to watch a movie and you whisper in my ear sleep-soft promises of a family and our future. We are half-formed ourselves with dreams bigger than the universe and when I get on airplane to leave for a country that has winter and snow, you make a promise of precious stones set in a fine silver band. A promise of forever.

2 years later, when I finally admit to myself that the only bands you ever gave me were the mental bars of a self imposed jail cell, I tell you to keep your promises to yourself and feel nothing when I delete your number from my phone. Yet I keep your silver plated ring, the one with a little gold heart, I keep it and wonder if maybe my heart is made of the diamonds you promised, unfeelingly slicing through our relationship and not beating out even a single tear of loss.

It is 2015 and we are cake mix with too much butter, a whole tub of heavy cream, a drawer full of new boxes of stale cigarettes, perfectly manicured nails and dyed hair. You are everything I have ever wanted and in the dark of my room, I think privately to myself that this time, this will last forever and there is no need for gleaming rings or shiny stones.

9 months later, when I finally admit to myself that forever is a promise I am incapable of making, I am admitted to a hospital because it was all my fault and I mourn, pine and miss you more than I value my life. In the warm room they leave me alone in, I think that forever belongs to those who are determined and unwavering, who pump blood through their hearts, and not to me, whose cold, stone heart only knows how to hurt those they love the most.

It is 2018 and we are hands linked under covers on lazy weekend afternoons, comfortable silences, good-natured teasing in short car rides. I have learnt my lesson and I don’t make promises anymore, but you don’t make any either, just press your thumb in circles on the back of my hand as you tell me that you see us lasting a long time.

1 year later, when I finally admit to myself that I am full of hope for the future, I ask from your bed, groggy from an afternoon nap that lasted too long, I ask you to marry me and you say yes. Neither of us are naive enough to believe this is eternal, but as I crawl out of bed, bleary eyed, we discuss our plans, because even without a promise of forever, engagement rings cost two months’ salary.

It is 2019 and we are daytime and nighttime, pixelated video feeds and poor connections, quiet nights full of chatter and sleepy mornings of wakeful care. You are warm blooded, promises belong to your kind, they flow through your arteries. All I have is black ink veins and a hopeful heart, but you make the trade anyway.