Have you ever washed the blood of another off of yourself?

Standing under the shower’s rain,
Rinsing, and scrubbing the blood off your face and arms.
Staining the tile where you stand;
Swirling hypnotically down the drain.

I shot you;
I’m the reason you’re dead,
And the splatter of blood across my face proves it.

The gunpowder is still under my nails,
Black as ever as if I scratched my way out of my own coffin into yours.
I’m still coughing up dirt, I swear.

I stabbed you;
I’m the reason you won’t wake up.

The blade glimmered as I twisted it into you so fluidly.  
I was afraid to pull it out,
Afraid that a piece of myself was embedded in you too.
The dagger is a shade of red and brown as if you were ***** just like me.

I killed you!
Can’t you see? You can’t.
But, I believe, no, I know you feel it somewhere.
Somehow.

This water isn’t hot enough.
It’s not scalding enough to burn the feeling of you off of me.
But the blood,
Oh, the blood.
A never ending crimson sea, a deep bleeding river of you, slowly, but surely, disappearing from existence.

I run a bath,
The shower wasn’t enough.

I’m still stained.
I’m still tainted,
I’m still bleeding into someone who isn’t me.

The water swishes as I settle in.
Back and forth, up and down,
Over and under the sides of the tub.

The water won’t stop turning red,
A deep red.

A reminder that I killed you,
That I shot you,
That I stabbed you.
That I don’t regret it,

But regret isn’t guilt.
Is it?

It’s ******.

In my darkest dreams,
You lie there.
Awaiting me in dark hues of purples transforming into mist.

You smile, half-lipped in such a devilish way.
It leaves me in thrill.

You growl,
A low animalistic cry that you’ve kept prisoner for so long.

You howl.
As if I am your lunar eclipse,
And you have to have me before dawn.

In my deepest dreams,
You wait there.
Lying in dark hues of reds transforming into mist.

You reach for me;
Arms outstretched in a silent desperate plea.
I always comply.

We push and pull,
We Grapple into a tangled mess of filth and shame.

The air hangs heavy in a dark dream like this.

I awake,
Sweat on my brow,
And my mouth in a shape that can only say your name.

You take me to a field.
Overgrown with weeds, grass, and wildflowers with a mind of their own.

Interlocked,
Our fingers make 10 promises as you lead me barefoot through the brush.

You chose a dark starry night with the moon to oversee our ventures.

Pulling me through,
I lift the hem of my dress in an attempt to save it from stains.

Your feet stop.
“This is it.”
You say.

Pulling me to my knees,
The bare ground tickles me fancy.

I look up to see you towering over me, with the moon as my witness.
You push my arms over my head,
Tugging my dress,
Shrugging it down my shoulders.

Exposing me to the Earth—
I feel everything.
The grass, the stars, your every exhale, and the hiss of a snake. (Somewhere in the night with us.)

You smile down at me, and of course,
I smile back.

I start to speak,
You push your hand over me.

“You mustn’t speak.”
I comply.

Your eyes glow yellow in the dark.
A flash of regret and guilt flutters into my heart.
“Are you sure we should do this?”

He reaches to shed his shirt, molting layer after layer,
Revealing new skin, cold to the touch.

Pressed against me, bare.
Out of the crook of his neck:
I see the stars.
Blinking, flickering, dancing for me.

Beautiful, angelic,
Delicious.
You create a new woman out of me.

Clearing at dirt, grabbing at grass, and gasping at the sight of seeing stars.

Crickets sing into the night, frogs croak a melodic ballad, and the birds whistle in their sleep.

A chorus of the night.
Snakes hiss join in.

You use me anyway you want.

“You mustn’t tell anyone.”
I seal my lips with the taste of a red kiss.

As the moon grows tired of the night,
The sun peaks into our world.

You lift me up, slipping my dress back onto my shoulders.
Zipping me up with ease.

I look down to see it tainted with green grass and brown Earth.

‘Was it worth it?’
I sigh, but smile.

Our hands meet again for our last ten promises as you lead me again through the brush.
Through tall grass, tired weeds, and wild flowers.

You lead me out into the sun.

“Here is where we part, my love.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Only on your darkest days.”

You kiss me again.
The shakes hiss and night choir sings. Angelic.

Eyes open—
You’re gone,
Gone with the night.

I turn for home.
(Wherever that is.)

“Where were you, my other half?”

“I was with the night.”

“What’s that in your hands, darling?”
“Show me!”

As if magic, I feel an object pressed against my palm.
(The palm that once held you.)

I slowly open up, breaking our promise.
I reveal the only remnant of our night:
A red apple.

With a fresh bite missing,
My mouth tingles wet.

I touched myself to the thought of you last night.
And, God,
It felt so ******* good.

The thought of you above me,
Hand around my throat,
With your teeth clashing into mine.

It felt so *****.

Our spit and other ****** fluids mixing and creating the chemical reaction for love.

I could hear your voice edging me on.
‘Go faster, you ****.’,
‘I know you want me to make a mess of your innocence.’,
I can still hear the echoes of the filthy and twisted fantasies we have.

My fingers spin the most intricate and intense shapes over and over again.
In hopes of merely grazing the ******.

I can feel you,
Pulling my hair,
Digging your nails into me,
And slapping me senseless.

Everyone must think we’re sick—
But I don’t care.

I need you,
I need to ***,
I need you like never before.

If this is the image of true love,
Me with my hand down my *******,
Head thrown back,
Back arched,
And sputtering gasps of “Yes, Sir.”

Then this is a fairytale.

Growing wetter and wetter,
I’m soaking through my moans of pleasure.
Closer and closer,
I’ve almost reached the end.

With a happily ever after
You growl into me animalistically.
You spread me open to lap up each and every last drop.
You look at me—
You smile.

“Who’s a good girl?.”

Let me tell y’all something:
The white man don’t care about our suffering.
The privilege is too bright to see us.

The white man don’t care about us.
The white man wants to see us get shot,
The white man wants to see us wither and perish.

But who built America on their backs,
Bare handed, and
Whipped into submission?

We did.

We will take back America.
We will take back our streets,
Paved with the blood and tears of our people.
This is our America.

Not whitewashed and stained red with racism.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Stop! Don’t shoot!”
You shoot anyways.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “I can’t breathe.“
You continue to suffocate us.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Help.”
You continue to let us suffer.

This is your America.
Where the president calls us thugs,
And threatens to shoot us and our freedom.

This is not my America.

This is your America.
Where you shoot us for having cell phones.
Where you terrorize our sons and daughters.
Where you **** us for being black.

Who gonna protect us?
Not cops drunk on their own power and superiority.
Not the president blinded by racism.
Not our white “allies” who stand by and watch us burn.

But if we burn,
You burn with us.

If you **** us,
You die with us.

We tried peace,
We tried awareness,
But we always end up with violence.

We’re scared,
But who can blame us?

You’re killing us with your American Dream,
You’re murdering us with your American Dream,
You’re suffocating us with your American Dream.

This is your America—
Not mine.

We will take back America.
We will take back our freedom
Or we will die trying.
And that is the American Dream.

I see it, right there.
That faint glimmering in your eyes.
It’s hope,
It’s inspiration,
No wait, it’s love?

It’s everything.

I see everything in your eyes.
I see long nights,
Early mornings, and
Sweet memories.

I see Leonine taking his first steps,
I see Luna on her first day to school,
I see two hands ring clad interlocked.

I see us,
And to me,
That’s everything.

Do you see it?
That sparkle in your eyes when you look at me.
I see it,
And I love it.

I love everything,
I love you,
I love us.

My one and only,
My love,
My everything.

That’s what I see.

(I snuck out of the house yesterday.)

Quietly,
Don’t make a sound.
Shh.

The window holds my reflection in it,
It tells me,
“Don’t do this.”
“This isn’t you.”

I ignore the pleas.
I unlatch the bars,
And lift the window open.
It squeaks.

Be quiet.
Don’t make a sound.

I pull the screen up along with the window,
I squeeze through the opening.
This is it.

I feel the grass under my feet,
Freshly misted with dew.
The crickets chirp,
“What are you doing?”

I continue on.

I run through the grass,
Leaving footprints behind as evidence.

My feet hit the pavement.
Rocks digging into skin.
The night renders me blind.

The moonlight shines down on me,
“Where are you going?”

I reply,
“To see my love.”

I’m half way down the street.
I feel you there with me.
I feel you warm right there.

The dogs caged in the neighbors yard howl,
“Turn back! You shouldn’t do this.”

I look at them,
With finger over lips.
Don’t make a sound.

I reach a slow.
Legs burning, out of breath.

A car slowly hums behind me.

I get in.

The seat hot against my thighs.

“Buckle up.”

I comply.
The engine turns over,
And everything that was forward is now behind.

We pull into an abandoned parking lot—
You know, the one by the 66 Diner.

The car stops.
Seats creaking,
You turn to me.

Windows fogged,
With your tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek.

Car dark,
With my tongue pressed to the inside of your teeth.

Quick,
Be quiet.

I have to be back by dawn—
No one can know that I left.

‘Till then.
The night is ours, Chase.