when we fight, we shout and scream so loud that the glass vases your mother bought you shatter into a million pieces. just like my heart does when you touch me, like I'm breaking with joy, because I love you but your touch breaks me.
and when you storm away and slam the doors behind you, I slowly pull trembling hands from my sides to reveal gaping wounds. then I'm bleeding out onto the floor and I'm too far from the phone to call 911— it's too late. the battle's been won and I'm just a casualty.
as I slowly sit on the floor and wonder if the drops falling to the ground are drops of blood or tears, reaching trembling fingers to my eyes, shaking, I am thinking: all is fair in love and war.
and then. your sweet hands lift up my chin, and you look at me with soft eyes. you are sorry. you gather up the sorrow leaked onto the floor and hand it back to me in the most honest way you can. you touch the small of my back and help me to my feet. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
when the angels come later that night, to collect your sins and the debt of your rusting soul— I turn them away with a wry smile. there are bandages across my ribs, but they don't prevent the bitter, tired laugh from escaping the most hollow part of me. my heart.
I look over at you and watch the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest. the moonlight slants onto your face and your hair falls in eyes that will not open till next morning, and suddenly everything about me feels soft and warm, even the gashes along my throat.
"all is fair in love and war."
a/n: I just really really love the song "real peach" by henry jamison
