there is a boy, of course there is a boy, and he is rough and angry and he looks through the bars in your holding cell and you feel like there might be some irony in the making. then he smiles. it isn't a pretty smile but—

it is his. 

it is his.

it is his and he laughs like a hurricane, destroying the world around you. 

you grasp onto the sound and make the mistake of not committing it to memory.

and he bites into the sandwich you buy him, again and again, like he is grieving, and he will always bite like that; the same things in his hand and he has the gall to act like he is losing something. you don't mind though, you think you like it. this routine between you and the boy with eyes like an electric current and—the both of you are like magnets and you know because — you can't help but come back. there is a pull. there is a pull because you—

you come back again and again, and you get married and you divorce and you cry and you cry and you cry and he loses the function of his leg to an infarction. and the grieve that he uses to bite gets swollen into his heart, gets more and more concentrated with the pills you keep prescribing him; he becomes like a fever you can't sweat out and into his hands and you crash on his couch. 

and you do it again.

and you do it again.

and you do it again.

and sometimes he will smile, and that, too, will be grieving.

(    but it is his.

                but it is his.

                                  but it is his.    )

and you will indulge him, because the only time he stops grieving is when he is moving things in your office or calling you from your patients and you will pretend that you hate it because it makes him smile, because he knows you're lying. 

he will take, and you will give, and he will never change, and you will think i love you from the place where you watch movies with him on the couch he is letting you sleep on because you have been divorced again. and he will smile, and it will be grieving, and you will love him more.

because it is him.

and he will get angry and he will yell and he will push you away again and again but you are like a magnet and you are always pulled back. 

and he will fall because you decides to play fair and he will smile and it will stop being grieving and you will think i love you i love you i love you with so much clarity that you can't bare to say it. and he will say that you bother him, and he will tell you to leave, and he will invite you to his poker game and you will know when he is lying by the size of his smile and how grieving it is. by the twitch in his leg. by the bite in his voice.

and he will try to die, and you will stop him, and you won't tell him you have cancer because then you will have to watch him smile with so much grief that you know you will not last the week. 

and he won't say he loves you, but you know he does.

because it is him, and you know him better than anyone.

and you will die. and he will, too.

because it is him.

(ignore me im watching house md and pressing my Barbie's together to make them kiss.)