Red.

My feet are glued to the tub. That’s what it feels like.

I can’t move. The liquid coming up and out of the drain turns from black to brown to brick to red, and it’s blood. The tub is filling. It climbs the sides of the tub and then runs over.

Everything is stained.

It’s alive.

Real.

Gritty.

Growing.

Changing.

Although I panic, I can’t help but touch it with my fingers. I feel it run through my fingers. It leaves a soft crimson behind.

And then I dip my arms in. I am covered in it.

When I can move my feet again, I lay down in the tub and submerge my entire face under and I come up for air like I’m taking my very first breath.

Blood.

Breath.

Gasping.

That’s what the truth finally coming to the surface feels like.

Like being born again.

–S.

Still.

I believe if you squint just right, you can still see us off in the distance, loving and laughing, fighting and kissing, sharing and giving.

In a parallel universe, or a sister life, we are still one, even though in this life, what’s done is done.

Off in the distance, look there, squint and wait for the light to hit just right, you can see my head on your shoulder.

And it’s still on your shoulder when I close my eyes at night.

–S.

I am still laughing with you.

I want you to know that I would do it all over again.

Every single moment, just to laugh with you again.

The joy. The pain.

The hate. The love.

The betrayal. The jealousy.

The disappointment. The lying.

The rainbow of emotions.

The shouting in the parking lot.

The drunken dirty whispers.

All to hear you laugh again.

To see you light up again.

To hear that small satisfied sigh before you smile again.

I would do it all.

Again.

Again.

Again.

With you.

Maybe I’m crazy,

but I never said that I was sane, baby.

–S.

Hurricane S.

You want a girl who is soft and has lips that are cherry red.

You want a girl who smells like vanilla and leans into everything you say like a cat.

I am not a girl. I am a hurricane.

I am not soft. I am electric.

My lips are not cherry red. They are nude and rich like the earth.

I don’t smell like vanilla. I smell like a wildfire.

I am not a cat. I am a panther.

And I never lean or sway, I’m like a roller coaster that way.

–S.