Presented at The Bogong on 03\/20\/2022<\/p>\n\n\n\n
caution advised for references of substance use and self harm<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
You still get off the train at the junction to walk along the creek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You used to follow that creek to work, sit down at your desk, stand up again, and walk back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not all the way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the nights you didn\u2019t stay on that bank staring into the waters, you took the train back. To her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You didn\u2019t know her. Not really. You caught the same train at the same time, and both kept your heads down when the thongs and cargo shorts boarded your carriage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\u2019d been no drawn-out flirtation, no spark, no flutter. There was a grasping, desperate loneliness. It pulled at the both of you, closing the distance when she leaned in. She tasted faintly of acetone and always asked you to stay the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You would always allude to work in the morning and leave. You\u2019re afraid of her. You ate onion rings at the train station with the tales of the fair folk and their jealousy toward what\u2019s theirs whispering through your mind. Despite your fears of being possessed, you were the first one to lay claim. You left deep blue marks on her skin, just under her jaw. \u201cDo I take your breath away?\u201d you asked. \u201cCan I keep it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You filled thresholds with vain consumption. You smoked on the doorstep, passed bottles through the windowsill, fucked in the carport. She would sleep on your chest, and you would stare at the ceiling and stroke her hair as her head grew heavier. And then – you\u2019d leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The days became cycles of tension and release. There were parts of her, and parts of you, and a swelling resentment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You hated the way she looked at you as if you were something unhewn, trying to chip away at what she didn\u2019t like and tie you to what she did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You resented her desire, and the enthusiasm she brought with it. And she hated your distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She flattered you with the wrong words, and you turned them back at her in hollow imitation. You told her she loved you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her grasp grew more desperate, her gaze stickier. In response you closed off your body until you were hands and hips and, at night, a pillow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You\u2019d stare at the ceiling until your body melted away and the dreams of being enveloped by silt and mud crept up. You would brace yourself for the shock of hitting the water. You never did break the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dreams turned into days and back again. The part of you that feels like someone else stepped forward with your feet, and you tried to look away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You stared into the creek and imagined it had endless depths and in those leagues, a place for this body. You used cheap whisky to compliment the taste of hopelessness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You lost control of your body twice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After the second time you checked your phone, like you\u2019d just woken from a deep sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Your vision blurred and cracked and stitched itself back together with unearthly clarity. A scream rose and dissipated before it left your lungs. The body moved, and left you behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hours later you were in her bed. You told her work had been busy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She had begun to redraw the lines around you. You don\u2019t know if this was flattery or contempt. You didn\u2019t care. There was nothing she could do that the water wouldn\u2019t take away, no piece of you that it couldn\u2019t have. Her pencil kept shrinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman you didn\u2019t really know was lying on the body you didn\u2019t want to know, as she had dozens of times before, when your throat suddenly squeezed, the air ripping above you. Storms raged beneath your skin and you couldn\u2019t stand to be there any more. You noticed how you, too, smelled faintly of acetone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The smell rose, and you rose with it, making it to the kitchen before the last of the night made its way out of you. You refused her shock and her solace. You just rinsed the sink and walked out, still winded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You caught the train to work, got out at the junction, and walked along the creek. When you paused as you had done just before, what lay before you wasn\u2019t some mythical being that was owed your whole self. It doesn\u2019t even come up to your waist.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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