It's only yours in that I'm yoursA Chapter by Gabriel B.Marek continues to tell you who he isI don’t want your bathwater, Lilah. I don’t. Is it special just because it’s touched your skin? I don’t think so. I told you, I’m not that kind of creep. Do you think we could be closer if I took your sweat? Would I own you more if I took your blood? No. What is more?
We don’t need to be here. That kind of sampling, that’s for the desperate. You only do that if you’re trying to prove something to yourself, if you’re grasping at straws for some kind of connection that you just don’t have. That kind of sampling is more like hoarding. I don’t mean to say that your blood isn’t beautiful- it is water, after all. But it’s no more beautiful than anyone else’s just because it came from you. I swear to you. Search my collection, Lilah, every vial. Pull them from the window, pile them sparkling on the floor. Dig through the oceans and viscous muck and the dull clear flasks of bottled water. We don’t need to be here. You’ll find blood and spit and sweat, sure, but it’s only yours in that I’m yours. There’s a whole self portrait scattered between last month’s high tides. But it’s mine: type A neg, Marek Virtanen distilled. But I suppose you may be right. I collected myself, put every drop on display like an anxious lover. And I had no right. Is it any different, this way? It’s all yours in that I’m yours. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve clung too desperately. © 2020 Gabriel B.Author's Note
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