So there he was—my Red
Even under the burgundy candescent lights,
I could make out his face
His eyebrows were stubbornly shaped
(Although only people who knew him would know)
And his jaw tensed like a spring

I studied his face like it was a picture out of my biology textbook
Written under it a caption containing incongruous words I didn’t know the meanings of
I thought about the eyes I wanted before
Used to look for in other people
Used to search for in myself
I thought about their different models and structures
Some infected and deserted
Others whining with disease
And some that could possibly show me things unavailable for me here

I took my time to wash last night’s musty smell out of my hair
I could remember it very well, even after watching it flush down the tub
In the second my eyes were closed, I pictured his red room in my mind
And how we stood across from each other
My body lacked what it so vehemently possessed yesterday
I deserted it, piously and eagerly, and it began to resemble the iron slipping from his mouth

He reminded me of my cross childhood
The years when I felt sorely inadequate sitting in the cafeteria
With my black patent leather shoes, head loose and unscrewed
I used to be the one that needed saving, and terribly too
But I couldn’t heed that kind of responsibility on somebody else
I could only rely on myself, especially with my heavy ankles
That I dragged with me where I went like I was a burden even to myself
I never used to look like this
I felt outside of my own flesh, deepening and aging with pretension
But people depended on me to sacrifice parts of myself for them now
Only I let go of more than I bargained for
The parts of me that he owned, I never wanted back

I used to pine for that night
I could feel where his hands had been when I moved
My legs were sore and tumultuously unsteady
But I adjusted to them very quickly
I was just glad I felt anything at all

During the fight his arms were mechanical
He looked at me sometimes, and it was unsettling
Maybe he realized how chemically imbalanced I was

The past looked like a desiccation of embryos and violet red blood cells
I poked my head out of the water, not only to see clearly
But to push out of my deprivation
I was tired of having it constantly warp around my eyes so that it was all I could see

I noticed blood pouring from his forehead like the bed of a waterfall
Like the bed I was lying on
I swallowed against the urge for water
I was so thirsty
After years of accepting this desert as my home
I needed alleviation
Ironically, he was the one who found me