it took an infant seemingly helpless

(all God’s holy heaven host watching)

soft flesh ’n blood in a rocky barren land

who withstood all assault

who walked, worked, and was there

he gave sight to blind people

took fish ’n bread ’n multiplied it

and distributed his light everywhere he went

chased out spirits evil that were making some crazy

made so many well who’d been sick

(an’ he’s still doin’ it today)

evil fallen watchers were watching him trying hard

trying hard to kill him, make him stumble

trying hard to make him use violence

hard to make him stumble

hard to accuse him, hard to make humans hate him

hard to make people curse him, hard to make ’em lie about him

evil fallen watchers used trances, dances, wizardry, black arts magical,

all manner of demon powers and spat in his face

(still goes on today)

and he the child who entered into our physical realm

he without violence 

let them perform violence upon him

it’s how he defeated the illuminated one, lucifer

the enemy of man’s soul

he without violence

let them perform violence upon him

let them nail his naked innocent form on a wooden cross

(roman invention for criminals of the lowest kind)

and this is how the son of God

(love in human flesh)

defeated the evil one, criminal of the lowest kind

(we’re no match for him, but the Son is)

hater of man who eats men’s souls and spits ’em out

the son rose, oh holy night the stars are brightly shining

the hater of man fights still, his time of end is near

oh happy day

Crisp, off-white sheets illuminated by bright sunlight hurt his eyes as they fluttered open.

For a split second, he wondered where he was.

Squinting, he could make out the silhouette of a body. Down past the edge of the bed, it sat in a chair with its elbows resting on its legs. There was a small television stuffed into the top left corner of the room, playing some kind of game show. Beside it, there was a window with curtains colored the same off-white as the sheets.

At the sight of him awakening, the shadow rose off the chair and moved quickly toward him.

"Elijah?"

He mumbled an almost incoherent reply. It was mostly a grunt but the shadow broke down into tears.

Shit.

Memories came flooding back like a boiling torrent of seawater. And it tasted just as bitter.

Him- curled up in a bathtub, knees to chest. A bloody blade and slit wrists- swallowing pills, then some more, then some more.

Shit.

As if to confirm his thoughts, he looked down at his arms and saw them wrapped in bandages. Tubes were slipping in and out from under them.

Beside Elijah, the crying shadow took his hand. He could tell now that it was his husband.

"Listen honey. We don't have to talk about this right now. I'm just happy you're here." He paused, his thumb caressing his hand. "I'm just happy you're here."

Elijah sat at the kitchen table, watching the dust particles dancing in the sun rays shining in through the window. He could smell the bananas that they had bought on their way home from the hospital and remembered how they had once been ripe. Now, they were brown and beginning to rot, needing to be thrown out.

With a clink, Cameron sat a plate of breakfast in front of him and an empty glass.

"What'd you like to drink?"

Elijah twirled his fried potatoes around with his fork but didn't reply.

"You have to eat sometime," Cameron said as he put his hands on his hips, letting the fridge door swing shut.

"I'm not hungry."

"Then drink something."

"I don't want to."

"I just cooked you breakfast."

"And I appreciate it."

He sat down and began to eat his food. "You have a funny way of showing it." After a while, he spoke up again. "You have to try."

"I know."

"I don't think you do."

"God dammit, Cameron. It hasn't even been a month."

He stayed silent after that.

"I think we should go to the park today." His husband said, rolling over and putting his hand on his chest. "It'd do you some good to get out of the house."

"I don't know, maybe."

He sat up. "We're going."

"Okay."

An hour later, Elijah crawled into the passenger seat of their car. Cameron popped the keys into the ignition and reversed out the driveway.

"It looks like a nice day." He acknowledged.

"It does."

"Just you wait and see. I bet you'll enjoy the sun on your skin."

Elijah picked at a string hanging from his athletic shorts. "Maybe."

They drove in silence.

He didn't even notice when they pulled into the parking lot. "Let's go." Cameron said once they were parked.

"I don't want to."

"Get out of the car."

"I said I don't want to."

Cameron jumped out of the car and stomped over to Elijah's door, flinging it open. "Get. Out."

"God dammit Cameron."

Cameron grabbed his arm and pulled, making him fall out onto the ground. A young couple stared as they walked by.

Elijah picked himself up. "Cameron, stop it."

"No! We're going."

"I just fucking said I didn't want to."

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU JUST SAID."

"I do."

Cameron shoved him into the car door. "Don't you dare turn this back on me!"

Elijah stared at him in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? I'm talking about all those looks you give me- all those times you act like I don't care about you, because I do. And you acting like I don't is a terrible feeling."

"Excuse me? I never said you didn't care about me!"

"Oh yeah?" He chuckled coolly. "Then why did you try to kill yourself?"

Elijah opened the car door. "We're not talking about this."

Cameron rushed forward and slammed the door shut again then pinned him against the car. "Like shit we aren't." He narrowed his eyes. "Why would you?"

"Why would I what?"

"Don't you dare play stupid."

Elijah paused. "I'm not happy."

"Okay, besides the obvious."

"I'M NOT FUCKING HAPPY." He pushed Cameron in the chest. "DON'T YOU GET IT? OR ARE YOU TOO SELFISH TO SEE PAST YOUR OWN PROBLEMS? I HAVEN'T BEEN HAPPY FOR A LONG TIME. AND I SURE DIDN'T TRY TO DIE BECAUSE OF YOU. Don't give yourself that satisfaction- you don't deserve it."

"How dare you call me selfish when you're acting like you're the only one that hurts? There are more things going on than just you and maybe if you would have realized that you wouldn't have tried to commit suicide!" A flock of birds flew off from the surrounding trees. "And don't tell me that I was happy to see you suffer."

"You don't think I realize there are things bigger than me? More important than me? Ever since-"

"Ever since what? Ever since Derek? I'm so tired of hearing about Derek. Derek seems to be the only one you care about in this relationship."

Elijah stared, horrified. "Are you kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? He hit me, Cameron. He hit me! Excuse me for not forgetting about all of that."

"I don't expect you to forget about him. God, I don't even expect you to ever get over it. But I did expect you to care about us more and to move out of the past."

"If it was that easy don't you think I would have done it? Come on, don't tell me you actually thought I would stay in that mindset anymore than I'd have to? You must be pretty damn stupid if you think otherwise." It was Elijah's turn to chuckle in frustration. "But of course I should have just gotten past it, right? So that you," he jabbed a finger into Cameron's chest, "could be at peace with yourself. As long as you had someone to fuck at night, you were fine. Happy even. But I wasn't. Instead, I was left alone with the nightmares you had promised to fight off. I couldn't stand living in my own skin and the entire time you only wanted me for sex."

"I-"

Elijah cut him off. "No, Cameron. I'm done, I'm done." He took the keys from Cameron's hand and went to the drivers seat. "I'm leaving."

"Where are you going?"

He shut the car door and started the car. "I don't know- maybe to Derek's, since you seem to think I'm so infatuated with him."

Elijah didn't even feel the blood running from his knees as he drove away.

Damn those eyes.

Those swirling chocolate brown irises that strip my soul bare.

You look at me with them, and they’re not even the prettiest eyes I’ve seen.

Yet they have a magnetic effect on me,

Mentally undressing me, and I subconsciously fold my arms over my chest.

I’m wet already and my arms and legs become like putty.

Putty in your hands.

That’s what I was.

That’s all I was.

Putty to prove to yourself you were a man, a man worthy of the wife who left you for multiple men,

The entire month that you stole me from myself, carrying me from ecstasy to ecstasy

In that dominant sort of way, where you demanded in the car I take my panties off

In a low, gruff tone, with only a hint of brokenness that I did not then detect

Breathing labored

So you could finger me and bring me to one of those exquisitely intense orgasms that I’ve always called “salty” instead of “sweet.”

“Salty” meaning there is a certain intensity to the feeling,

Like when you eat something too salty…it leaves an intense taste in your mouth, almost uncomfortable where you grimace .

But this uncomfortable feeling was unbearably delicious.

The look on my face mid-climax was not beautiful.

But it was honest.

The look of my contorted and ugly mid-orgasm face was honest.

And I think you hated it. The honesty. It scared you.

“Sweet” orgasms feel smoother, less edgy, and more comfortable.

They taste like honey, they go down the throat like sweet tea.

Not this one.

This one drove me wild. My eyes widened in an almost fearful curiosity of just how far this would take me.

One hand on the steering wheel with careless ease,

You molded me into your image.

How dare you play God.

I was Rebound Woman; your mistress.

Keep it on the hush-hush.

And I didn’t even mind.

You stole my dignity, my self-worth.

It was a kind of soul rape,

A rape I was all too willing to participate in until after the fact,

When I realized what you’d done. I didn’t agree to these consequences!

Yet you were not responsible for stealing my dignity. I was.

I raped myself. I raped myself because I let you define me.

Who cared that you were a respectable, highly revered man in the community?

Who cared that you were a pastor, preaching against the exact types of things you were doing to me?

Who cared that you’d later tell your daughter never to date someone who would treat her the way you treated me?

Who cared if you were the highest form of a hypocrite I had ever come to know?

I didn’t. Not then.

I was blinded by your maddeningly seductive charm.

“I love you,” I said.

Suddenly your façade crumbled,

And you were just a scared little boy

You disappeared, then you were silent to my desperate pleas for reconciliation.

You broke my heart twice.

The temptation was not sexual. It was never sexual.

The temptation was whether to define my self-worth by what you showed me you believed it to be,

Or to realize my inherent self-worth independent of what you thought of me.

I am the Temptress,

Tempting myself with two opposing destinies.

I can continue raping myself,

Or I can make love to my wounds,

Love my ugly parts, expose them proudly and vulnerably.

Vulnerability is the highest form of courage.

I can take care of me,

Or I can expose the lies I tell myself, my own façade, perverting what vulnerability is intended for.

Christ tells me I am the Temptress, woe to me!

It would be better for a millstone to be tied around my neck,

And me be thrown into the sea,

Than to lead any of these “little ones” astray.

Even if that “little one” is me.

And you, you with the eyes, made me feel so, so small.