The Drowning

Is this it?
Love’s murderous hands—holding me under.
Each corner of lung filling with water;
Each tiny capillary busting from pressure.
One moment it’s all about me, it’s what I want.
The next you’ve got me in your hands, whispering “I won’t relent until I have it all…”
The first, second and third death was bearable;
A mere wince at the pain.
But this—this hurts.
You’ve made your way to the core of my heart,
And all must be pushed aside to make room for my true Lover.
Our love makes no sense.
It’s the most complicated, difficult, weakening, and dysfunctional relationship of all—yet something within me says okay.
And I surrender like an addict bowing to her drug.
At my death I wish only to scream, cuss and pound my fist into your chest.
But then I find myself instead weeping in your arms.
I am so mad at your pursuit some days.
And today is one of them…
But here is it: here’s my neck.
Wrap your nail pierced hands and squeeze me into wine.