choir abuse

The Hallucination

by Carrie Rudzinski

Love is a boy with addictions
to everything but me. Love
sounds just like a dial tone.
Love knows he is my first
want. He is a field waiting
to be grazed. Love taught me
to forgive like a wing ripped
from its socket. Love taught me
patience carries a knife. To walk
like a bruise blooming. To devour
each lie and ask for another.

I found a toothbrush
that is not mine
in Love’s bathroom.
Love is a salt block of excuses.
A scab I chewed through.
Love makes me walk home.
Love is forgiven.

Love taught me how to drown quiet.
So I may taste how to flood.
So his hands are the last thing
I kiss. Love is forgiven.

Love is a severed finger
forgotten in my pocket.
I wait. And wait.
He never calls.
Love is forgiven.

Love has too much desire
and not enough hands.
He wrapped his mouth in a telephone wire.
Promised not to kill himself
this time. Love says I am his
but he is not mine. My love
is malignant. His mouth is all
of the reasons I flinch
when other men touch me.
Love taught me to wait.
I am old now.
Love is forgiven.

Love did not mean it.
Love tells me all of his secrets.
Love refuses to kiss me in public.
Love is only sober when he is with me.
Love is a breeze in everyone’s skirt.
A handprint on the inside of my thigh.
Love tells me he loved me too much.
Love never apologized.
Love is broken.
Love told me his mouth
is the last train home.
Love knows I am not
his Love. Love told me
not to love him.

But how do you claw
your way out of the river
when you are a stone?

© Carrie Rudzinski
Published 3.31.15 in Drunk in A Midnight Choir.