Discovering loss

Alec Massey

She cut her eyes at me, and the blood was warm against my cheek. 

I wanted to taste it; 

A bead of red soured my tongue—her beauty bit like rust. 

I turned away; my body ripped in the process, and half of me: 

Half a man, half a woman, half a person, stayed with her. 

They all looked at her and let blood drip from their mouths to their feet. 

I couldn’t get enough. 

Dreaming of our lifetimes, 

I lay there at night; my phantom limbs reaching out to her, wishing they were strong enough to

keep her close.

The morning air was charged, the pressure pushed me forward though I was soaked to the bones 

with desperation and grime; 

She was there, of course, though I couldn’t see through the rain 

And my own tears. Stumbling forward with one foot and blind eyes, 

I reached out but fell short; a hair’s width separated us. 

She turned to me, but I cried out.

The rain wanted to taste her too. 

Selfishly, it lapped against my face and stole the blood she brought to the surface; I stumbled and felt no reason to continue upright. 

No strength left, no fight left, my passion flowed around me, again stolen by the water that 

pooled and carried my mind out to keep. 

I only wished it would take me in her direction.