Today's the day. How strange it is to attend your own funeral. This whole time I've felt like I was not really here. Not really. I'm an echo of who I used to be, watching as the voice that created me fades away. I should feel pain. I should be in anguish over what I've lost. I've lost you, and you've lost me.
Our song, playing at my funeral. I catch a glimpse of my collar, hidden beneath my clothes. You're burying me with it on. Friends who know, touch my collar as if to say a prayer. I look to see that you're wearing yours. You haven't taken it off since you've heard the news. Family who don't know, hesitate to ask as if afraid to learn.
Mutual slavery, we said. Sometimes I would wrestle you to the ground. Other times you would have me bound and trembling. Your body was my playground. My body was your canvas. My pleasure is your own. Your pain is my own. Our pleasure - our pain. Us. We owned each other. And now that I'm standing here, watching you cry, I don't feel your pleasure or pain: just detachment and release and peace and a profound sense of love. I'm sorry I can't share in your grief.
I place my hand on your cheek like I've done a million times before. You put your hand on mine like you've done a million times before. This time, your hand passes right through mine. I touch your body, then you walk right through me. Every inch of you forbidden from my touch. I try to breathe your air, smell your pheromones, taste your skin. Nothing. You're not here either; you look right through me.
Day after day, I watch, unable to do anything, unable to tell you anything. Day after day, you walk our apartment naked, wearing nothing but your collar, as if waiting to submit to me or waiting for me to submit to you. We are separated by the numbness of death and the pain of loss. Yet that separation seems so thin to me and so unfathomable to you.
I watch you break down, night after night, in the bathtub filled to the brim with scalding hot water - just the way you liked it. You drink cheap wine and blare our song on repeat, singing every line except one. "If you should die before me, ask if you could bring a friend." You break down sobbing every time it comes to that line, then quickly regain composure to sing the rest of the song. If I could bring you with me, I would. If I could hold one more time, my arms would never let go. I wish I could say it hurts to watch you. I'm sorry - I only feel my love for you.
