Battlefield

It is a moonless night when my demons and I sit at the table enjoying a play of chess. I reviewed all their moves over the last months while rolling awake in my bed. This time I really thought I could not be beaten, that it was their time to get beat down. Little did I know that they also saw me coming and that my life wasn't as figured out as I thought it was.
I sit up on my tall stand and like a creator look down at my pawns on the battlefield. My move, their move, in this gambit of hopes. My thoughts are going to you, my king, and I puff my chest up. At every move, I tell them to fuck off because I don't need them now. Not now that I have you.

This is all because of you, my king.

A blink of an eye, two moves and I'm in checkmate. My demons laugh at me while tipping the king, I bleed, and there is no hemostatic gauze that can help.
My pedestal is tipped, and as I fall to my knees, I look at the chessboard. This is called Fool's Mate for a reason my king. Like a fool, I choose to close my eyes to the truth and lost the game. I dig my nails into the pedestal, trying to hold onto you, to us, as the house spins.

This is all because of you.

I pant crawling to the kitchen, a clanging of pots and glasses follows my steps as I wedge my body into the corner. I hold tight, until my knuckles turn white, as the house keeps spinning and a knife slips closer to me.
A doctor once told me that in case of multiple injuries, you will only feel the most painful. I press my finger down on its tip and watch the blood flow, I look as it smudges my reflection, the fool's reflection, on its blade. I wonder if in love there is really a butcher and a victim. I wonder if anyone really leaves the battlefield a winner, or if in the end we are all defeated.

I wonder what to make of us now Michael. I wonder what to make of me, my king.

I look around the house, and I see the carcass of our love scattered around. My guts decorating the living room, my ventricles laying in the bedroom, my brain adorning the bathroom. I put my feet down, wishing the house would stop spinning, wishing to go back in time. The warmth of blood underneath my feet startles me, I compare it to the coldness of our relationship, and It becomes oddly comforting. I'm bleeding, but I'm finally warm.

A couple of steps and I'm in the bedroom, where we spent nights laying together. I laid on you, my sweet grenade, trusting you would not detonate. How silly of me, how foolish of me. Now my guts are decorating this prison that once was our house.
I slip on my blood and grab what's left of my heart, pulling it close to my chest. I squeeze those remains, hoping they will go back in, if I squeeze hard enough. I'm blown on my stomach as another sob explodes, reverberating in this empty house.
If only I could hold on enough this pain would fade and die, if only I could squeeze harder I could fill up this empty chest. I remember looking at us, from my tall stand Michael, like a proud creator. How far that seems now. How far we are now.

The house stopped spinning, or maybe it was all in my mind. With sore arms, I leave my heart on the bed and climb on the sofa. I stroke the fabric with my hand and remember how, as a stray dog, I would scoop close to you, hoping you would stay a little more before moving away.
Do you think walls have ears, Michael? Do you think they remembered how you used to tell me that you loved me?
Do you also think they remember me begging you for it?

I crawl onto the floor choking, scooping up what's left of my dignity. As nausea overcomes me, I rush to the bathroom. My hopes are filling my throat, they burn as I empty them down the drain.
My brain covers the bathroom tiles, it's still warm to the touch. I take a handful and shove it down my throat. I fight against the gag reflex.
Hopes will not get the better of me this time, I sit on the floor, and don't move as my demons gather around me. They hand me a memory, I knock it on the floor near what remains of my hopes, I'm done living in the past. From now on, I'll only eat reason and drink pride. I open my mouth welcoming the metallic taste of my tears and begin to scream.

Knees under my chin, I lean against the bathtub. I hear some steps, but I don't bother looking up. An arm slides around my shoulders, wet and warm. A hand raises my chin and I meet my eyes, they judge, but she doesn't talk. As shame surrounds me, we become one. I hug myself tight, like with an anchor in a sea of pain,

Be careful, call me when you are back, I love you. Those words are rotting into the walls of this house, and the stench cannot be ignored any longer. I look at our pictures, in which you never smile, and ask me how. How could I not see it?
I hear another set of steps, I raise my eyes and see myself again. I see a fist reaching for my jaw and raise a hand to block it. We struggle on the bathroom floor, kicking, punching, biting. I grab my fist and stare at myself in the eyes and soon I'm alone again, rage now pumping in my vein.

I get up, holding on to the sink, I grab the mouthwash next to me and push my head back, enjoying the burn in my throat. While my emotions are beating in my chest like prisoners that need to be heard, I stare into my reflection in the mirror. I stare into my abyss until I see it.

Behind the fool, I see something that looks like myself, behind the smudge of mascara, I see something worthy of love. I lay my hand on the mirror and as we hold hands, you're in checkmate. I kiss my forehead in the reflection and promise to don't let myself go. I'll Never stop feeling ashamed for how much I didn't love myself while trying to love you, but now I know I can forgive myself for it.

I look around the house, and the blood disappears, finally, my organs are back where they belong.