Romance

You’re not beautiful when you cry. You scrunch up your face, make strange sobbing sounds. Your mascara tracks, and your nose starts to run. You cling to me, and I think you look positively revolting. But still, I just love to see you cry. I’ve never been good at comforting people. So why I should make you feel better when you’ve hurt me, I don’t know. You shouldn’t be comforted. You don’t deserve it. I wish you would look this ugly forever. Maybe it would be easier to fall out of love with you. I want to leave you. It’s the only thing on my mind. I wish I’d never have to see you again. When I’m alone, I can’t stand the though of being with you again. I love you too much. It drives me insane knowing that we could stay together forever. Forever this happy. Always, always, always, always…you and your beautiful face, your beautiful hair, your beautiful body, you’re so fucking beautiful. I want to tear you apart. And when you cry, I can’t stop it. I don’t want to. I hold you; you calm, and then slowly fall asleep in my arms. But the tears are still dry on your face. I can see them. I know that if the salty water burnt holes in your skin, instead of leaving those delicate salty arcs, your face wouldn’t be so pretty. Your rose-tinted cheeks, on that perfect pale skin, and those cute little freckles, that no one else can see. Oh no, you wouldn’t be so pretty. You’ll be lying next to me when I wake. You always are. At first I’ll think that you’re sucking your thumb, but then it’ll turn out you’ve just curled your hand into a fist. Your nails digging hard into your palms. Sometimes you press so hard it bleeds. Maybe you’ve had a nightmare. Maybe you just don’t want to wake up. Maybe you know what’s going through my mind as I watch you sleep. You always hide the scars on your palms, as though they’re your little secrets. But you don’t have any secrets from me. You’ve cheated. And you tell me I’ve lied. And I tell you that so have you. And you look so guilty; I want to hit you. So I do. You look puzzled. Tears well up in your big brown eyes, but for once you don’t cry. You’re wordless, powerless. So proud of yourself for once. Do you believe me now? Now are you afraid? Now can I leave? Please don’t cry. There there. Good girl. Easy girl. Such a good girl. I hate. There’s no ‘it’ or ‘you’ or ‘this’. I just hate. Just as you continue to love, and come back for more, I hate. You always need more, don’t you? Just like a beaten dog. Once or twice isn’t enough for my beautiful, easy puppy. Why are you crying my darling? Because this has nothing to do with puppy love. This is ‘us’ at our glorious worst.