Longing, by Bella Melardi

This isn’t a love story at all. There may be feelings. Yet there are also blades and screams. You

can feel a lot from a Romcom, but you can also feel a lot from a horror movie. I am the serial

killer but also the victim. You are the serial killer but also the victim. I am hunting you as I run

from you. I am a rabbit and a fox. I bite like a fox. Yet I’ve been bitten like a rabbit.

We are both going for each others' throats because it's the only way we were taught to love.

Our parents showed us destruction so how could we ever breed creation? In the end it doesn’t

matter who’s more fox or who’s more rabbit. We both have bloody scarred necks. We are both

covered in the mess we’ve made. Our skin is so tattered from all the fear we have of tattering

each other. We’ve ripped each other up because of our own internal rips. Yet I can’t stop

holding on.

I can’t bury this alive and watch it suffocate. I’m bleeding out. But I hold my wound and hobble

over to you. I’m so dizzy from blood loss that I kiss you and forget to take care of myself. Now

my head is spinning for many reasons. I will fall in your arms and forget to use my own to stop

the bleeding. I am lost in the red sea. A thick metalic dead sea. My body floats across the

surface. As I am submerged in dangerous longing. Longing is dangerous when you have a mind

like mine.

About the author:

Bella Melardi is a poet and author. She lives in Toronto and attends OCADU. She writes about the political and personal.