From the Floor

Slice my arm open, leave a bloody gash; it would be beautiful, my exposed insides, and you would smile upon me. Don’t hurry, don’t speak; only whisper and look into my eyes. You always smile when I bleed for you. Somewhere is an ocean big and vast with fish - lots of fish - and blue deep that I long to bask in. Take me to the ocean, please.

I smile down at you, and caress that tired face- when did I come into possession of such a beautiful man? Your eyes are blue, like mine… they are beautiful, like mine.

Show me what you think is beautiful. For me, it’s easy- everything is beautiful to me. The dust on the cabinet, the rusty doorknob, the splinters in the wood floors… your thinning hair, and wrinkling skin. My bruises and scars, my aching limbs.

I feel the sand on my skin now: warm and gentle, slightly coarse. I see the bright sun through my eyelids. Waves tickle my feet and pack wet sand beneath my legs. It is warm and serene, and peaceful, with no one else, only me.

Now, I weep for the world: for the good and the evil, for both saints and sinners. I collect my tears in a forgotten pickle jar to create my own sort of sea. I wait for you to come home and love me with all my flaws and blemishes and chain bruises. I smile from the floor when you come home, and you smile back.

I go deeper in my mind, into the ocean now… jellyfish, dolphins, turtles… I can be a mermaid. A mermaid with a pretty pink tail, and long flowing hair. My hair has only ever been gross and greasy- you don’t let me wash it. I guess that’s what I could do with my tears… but there’s no soap down here. The walls sometimes close in on me, and the mold smells like generational trauma.

My heart aches for a lighthouse. A lighthouse of my very own, with vines growing on the sides, and sun filtering through vintage windows. I would have a nice hardwood floor with no splinters and comfy, plush armchairs. Sand would collect in corners and crevices, but I don’t mind.

Will you give me something, please? Give me more love, or something pretty. This dark room is intimidating, and sometimes the shadows start moving. The chains you gave me are cold against my skin, hollow and icy. But I love you all the same.

I close my eyes and go back to the sea. I am a mermaid. I look up at the surface, where the sun is a bright blob that filters through the embrace of the water. I relax in its arms and let myself go limp, suspended in clear blue water beneath clear blue sky.

Hit me again, leave a mark this time. My bruises are fading, give me another. Make a dent in my skull or a crack in my jaw. I will love you all the same. Don’t yell, please… I am yours. Loosen the duct tape and chains, will you please? They dig into my flesh, but perhaps I deserve that.You’re proud of me, aren’t you? I stopped hitting you back, started smiling more. I like smiling. And when you smile back it’s so lovely, like honeydew on the back porch during dusk.

From the water, I see children play on the beach. They’re marvelous- so much beauty in them. They have sparkly eyes and sweet giggles. I like watching them play. And sometimes I wave at them if they venture towards my spot in the sea, and they always light up seeing a mermaid. Their goggles look funny… I wish I could hold one of the children. Sometimes I forget if the ocean is real, or if you are real, or if children still exist.

Blood replaces water, but Jesus turned water to wine. My blood doesn’t taste like wine though, does it? I remember I used to love playing with Mother’s wine glasses, getting my fingerprints all over them. She hated that, but it made me feel sophisticated. And I loved wearing fake glasses and playing with my fake rotary phone. I even dressed up as a secretary for Halloween once, didn’t I? Funny. I loved blowing bubbles too, but I always held the stick with my pinky out like some kind of socialite. Father would chuckle at me and smile. I miss that. I doubt he remembers me at this point, but it’s no matter… my world has been reduced to this single room, but in a way, my world is bigger now, isn’t it? I can dream more, imagine more, smile more. Father loved the ocean too, he always talked of buying a house on the shore someday…

Don’t worry about patching up the cracks of light in the windows… no one is looking for me now. I like the little bits that shine in this room… they’re beautiful. Sometimes they cast little rainbows on the floor in the afternoon.

There is a film of fluid on the decrepit floor, and I see the subtle movement of water in it, red dirty water lapping at my ankles with sunlight dancing on it. Debris near the wall collects into sand, and I smile at the sound of a child giggling in the distance. A ray of sunlight glares in my eye but I don’t look away. I’ve stared down the barrel of your gun, I’ve stared down at the ocean floor beneath my bound feet.

I miss dancing, and laughing. I miss music, and winter air against my face.

Will you love me again? I sit here all day in a bed of nails and chains against a pole waiting for you. I see you are so beautiful, so real, with your scruffy cheeks always in need of shaving and long eyelashes and pretty skin. I wish I had long eyelashes and pretty skin like you. But I guess then I wouldn’t be able to admire them, would I?

Take me to the beach, and love me there. Or add some sand to this room, fill it with water to my knees. You’d look handsome with sand in your hair. Or let me die, bind my limbs tighter… either way, I will drift in my ocean. And I will love you all the same.

The water reaches my chin now. Or maybe it’s just the floor, rising to meet me.