I see the filth on my hands and the dirt and oil under my fingernails and I scrape it out and spread it on my arms and I scream at you “See? Don’t you see? I did this. I chose this. Let me go.” Like I try to prove to you you made a mistake. Like I try to prove to you that you should just leave me here. Like I try to prove to you that you don’t want me, you only think you do. Like they all have.

You get so fractured that you decide to refuse to accept love. It’s much easier to stay in your little empty fortress. Solitary. Out of disbelief. Untrusting. Others have entered and promised to stay and promised they were allies over and over and meant it but instead they changed their minds. They set fire to your house in the night and fled. Trojan horse. Ambush.

But when I refuse love I refuse you because that’s what you are. Even when I slam the door in your face and lean against it and cry. Even when you send others to knock and show me that I can open it again and I just stand there with my attitude and my sarcasm and my jokes and my pretending, I am yours and you dont need a door. I am yours and the door has no locks. I am yours and I will not flee and crawl out the window because it’s dark outside and I cant see anything without you. I spread oil on my arms and tried to prove to you I was dirty because I never believe you when you tell me I’m not.You wrapped me in warm cloths soaked in blood and when you took them off I was porcelain and I cried for hours because you meant it. You locked the door behind you when you came in and stood there for me. Solid. Unchanging. Even when I don’t believe it.

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