The kiss announces the slap. The slap follows the kiss. You have trained me like an abused child, to feel enough pain that I am no longer afraid. If I know it is coming, then I am not suspicious. What is more, you presented it to me as a sign of tenderness. You told me, “This is love.” You told me, “This is what everyone does.” Kiss kiss Bang bang.
The first time, you tightly gripped my wrist so I would not escape. You even apologized. With time, you released my arm, understanding I wouldn’t leave. You never apologized again. After the kiss and the slap, the touch and the burning came. After each increasingly intense caress, you committed a small crime—a slow torture. Kiss kiss Bang bang.
Launched like arrows, your words pierced my skin. So, my skin grew thicker. Your anger, like a hammer, crashed down on my head. So, its bones hardened. Your cold indifference to me was a chilling wind that froze my blood. So, my blood became blue ice. Kiss kiss Bang bang.
Thus, your violence sculpted a new version of me. You were trained. I was used to it. You sculpted your gun inside the strong bones of my head. You made bullets from my iced blood. Through the holes in my skin, you hit the mark. Kiss kiss Bang bang.
You have finished me. After that final hug, that last time, you took my soul. Then you repeated, “This is love.”
Kiss kiss Bang bang.
Zyphera 