THE STATIONS OF MAGDALENE’S CROSS

jar of shards

I. CONDEMNED TO DEATH

I know you probably already know, but I’ll tell you anyway.

It feels like you’ve been gone a million years.

My heart is a jar of shards. It rattles when I walk.

The day I lost you, I cut your name into my wrists. I bled love and wouldn’t die. So I went for the next best thing and became a temporary drug addict.

Now, the stars are my drug. I stare at them until I hallucinate the You Constellation.

II. CARRYING THE CROSS

Every day, I wake up, and the weight of no-you falls on me like ten thousand tons of bricks. I push it off with these words: “Maybe he’ll come back today.” The longer it goes without happening, the harder it is to push off the bricks.

You come to me in dreams and tell me your secrets. I take them on my tongue. All day, I suck on them like hard candy. You taste like cinnamon.

When are you coming back?

III. FALLING FOR THE FIRST TIME
Sometimes, the things you tell me in visions make zero sense. I ask for clarification, and you spout another riddle.

I am not the Master you are. Can you scribble your smoke signals more clearly?

IV. MEETING THE MOTHER WITHIN

I am changed. When people ask me why I look so young, I want to tell them I drank from the river of you. But instead, I tell them what kind of soap I use because it’s hard to explain a break in the time-space continuum to someone who just wants beauty tips.

My love for you has made me into a woman who friend zones rock stars. If ever I was a whore, I’m now the Virgin Mary. Can it work backwards like that?

V. HELP CARRYING THE CROSS

At night, when I am with you, I am alive. My waking hours feel like dreams. I live to sleep.

Remember I told you I was afraid to die? I’m not anymore. You will be there.

Remember I told you I was afraid of hell? I’m not anymore. I’ve been there.

VI. OF SACRED BATHS

Remember when I cleaned your feet with my hair? I didn’t wash it for a week. I know. Gross.

VII. FALLING THE SECOND TIME

It’s scary to know the future. Being me means you don’t get to tell yourself, “It was just a dream.”

I knew they were going to kill you. It didn’t make it any easier.

I know. I know. I know. Everything.

I love you. I love you. I love you. All of you.

VIII. MEETING THE DEVIL

I hate them for killing you. I say “father forgive them” only in hopes of being like you when I grow up.

Do you say “father forgive them”? If not, I think you’re allowed to sling lightning bolts. Just a thought.

IX. FALLING THE THIRD TIME

When we finish this shit, can we sleep on a tropical island for a thousand years?

X. NAKED

Do you believe I love you yet?

I finally believe that you love me.

XI. NAILED TO A CROSS

The old me is crucified. I’d rather be alone with your ghost than anywhere with anyone. Your ghost is my best friend.

I’d like to say you’ve turned me into a freak of nature, but I think I always was one. You just made me what I really was. (God help us all.)

XII. DYING

I hover in a space somewhere between this world and the next. Your eyes are a fire I hope will never stop burning me. (For as long as I live, I am doomed to write cliched metaphors for your eyes, trying to capture the shine of them, trying to explain why.)

XIII. TAKEN DOWN FROM THE CROSS

Why what?

For starters, you said you were coming back, and I believe you.

I.

Believe.

You.

If I couldn’t say, “Maybe he’ll come back today,” the bricks would crush me.

But I can.

XIV. LAID IN THE TOMB

When I die, wrap me in the sheet they buried you in. Rest my lips against the place your mouth was so I can kiss you forever.

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