nathalie shushan

written in the fall of 2014

The day I met you my mother tried to kill herself
Locked in a bathroom with a razor blade and
Promises of a too-final solution to a problem that
existed mostly in her head
I didn’t realize I was looking for you until I found you

You seemed like such a good idea at the time
Your love was a barrier I was trapped inside
At the beginning it looked more like
white picket fence than barbed wire
Maybe at some point I needed a shield

You called me resilient I was always so proud
of my resilience
But when a spring is stretched too far
too many times
it loses its ability to recoil
I love you begins to lose its meaning after the thousandth time it follows I’m sorry

You used your tongue like a whip, lethal and quick
And you used your tongue to lick my
wounds you inflicted in the first place
“I’m sorry, beautiful. Just come back to bed.”
And I always did because I was too tired
to measure my expectations against reality
Or too afraid they would measure up
I once found pictures of my mother
bruised and crying
I thought the ways I hurt were normal

Feelings for you should have made my heart float
but instead they made it heavy
A weight in my chest that affected my posture
Your love was cold air and I had to huddle close to myself for warmth

Sometimes I wish I could go back to a time
when I couldn’t pick your face out of a crowd
Before your image stained my retinas
flowed through my hippocampus steady like a river
and became etched in my prefrontal cortex forever
I wish I could walk down the street and not recognize you – it’s fine
I never liked the idea of love anyway