Eat This In Remembrance Of Me
(For Adult Estranged Lovers Only)
1. Would you like something to eat; to drink; water, wine, tea? I know you hate coffee.
I do not hate coffee. After drinking it for a few weeks it pisses me off.
Ha. Coffee must be your ideal metaphorical bean. What about squeezing some fresh orange juice, just the way you taught me; one in each hand?
2. Cut the menu crap and the chit-chat and tell me why I am here.
Wouldn’t that be great? Finally. To tell you why you are here; here on this earth; still here after you ransacked my mind, walked away and left me to pine away?
I told you it was over, and I was leaving. I told you everything. We kissed goodbye.
3. That arsenic kiss. It left a spellful stain on me for years. I got up one morning and finally realized that the amylase in your saliva had broken down all the carbohydrates in my body. Look at me. This is not the body I gave you. Where is my blood? Like a parched flower I foolishly quenched my sorrow wherever and whenever I could. So now I speak with the tongues of men, and of others. I gave my body to be burned. I became a soundless lass and a taking symbol. Look at me, with your microscope. I went from substance and molecules to quarks and leptons.
4. It seems I am invited here already charged, tried and guilty, awaiting execution with a dinner of hate sprinkled with pepper and vinegar.
I don’t hate you. I did. I had to stop, to stop hating myself. You ambushed and massacred my mind and tore my soul apart. Why? You used me. You played games with the chambers of my heart. Games I never knew existed. You used words and symbols to trick me, to make me laugh and get comfortable. By the time I saw your sheets of deceits it was too late to recover. I tried to stop thinking about you and talking like you but unlike you I couldn’t vomit you up; even though I tried.
5. There were no tricks. We enjoyed each other in natural and, yes, some unnatural ways too, but it evolved without any plan or design, sinister or otherwise.
6. One of your tricks I could not resolve after you walked away was your ruse that one plus one makes two; and how the figure two looks and behaves differently from the two ones. Following your stupid logic, I tried to subtract you from us two, to find my oneself again, but it didn’t work. So maybe, just maybe, using your foolish logic we have to divide this two of us by ourselves for me to get back to my oneness. You see how sick you made me?
7. Sorry may not cool your heart, but I am truly sorry I hurt you. I called you. You changed your number. I wrote you. You didn’t respond. Why now? The hurt is mutual.
8. You don’t know what hurt is. You don’ know what love is. You do not know what mutual means. I blame myself. Why didn’t I taste the selfishness in our first kiss? You danced with my body until my joints deserted me, returning only after you snapped them back in place; back from the articulated obtuse angles you put me through. You stole everything. You broke me. You drained my life away.
9. What happened between us was natural, unplanned and unselfish. We brought out the good and the worst in each other. That’s all. This turpentine bitterness you harbour is going way too far.
10. You played musical games with the sound and rhythm of my heart. You said the two of us were like musical notes, playing melodies and harmonies. You used our fingers and every millimeter of our bodies to lecture me about intervals; perfect, major, minor, diminished and, the one you taught me to like, augmented.
11. You tricked me. I was your foolish toy. A plaything. You enticed me with the musical chords our bodies could make and play together. By then, your crafty lessons had taught me enough for me to remind you that chords must have at least 3 notes. Do you remember what your planned, smiling, devious response was? And how one minor chord became major and then dominant? You remember the sexual games, progressions and deceptions? You are an evil man; a very evil man; the devil incarnate. Lucifer.
12. I invited you here for our last supper. Your betrayal has gone already; after your denial and the crowing. This last supper is my ridiculous attempt to celebrate my resurrection from the cadaver you turned me into.
13. We could have done this over the phone.
No. We could not. To use your playing words; it would have been too phony. It had to be like this.
Am I to say, thou preparest a table before me?
Precisely; as you said way back then. And as you did the first time you stole my breath until at last I inhaled again in heaven. Eat this. Eat this in remembrance of me.
And then leave me to hell alone; forever and ever.
Ah men.
