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Mi Rey, Mi Corazón, Mi Hermano,

When there is no sleep, no heart, no king nor crown nor country, when you are gone, I do not know. I do not know or see my loss, I do not feel or sleep and no matter how many times I am told you are gone, no matter how many times I know I will never recover from this affliction, no matter how many times I see you and the blood drives from my brain and the invisible knives stab at my lungs and I cannot see or breathe or think. I will never be free from my home, you. There is no exemption from my love for you. There is no respite from this pain here, no release. And I do not believe there will ever be. It runs in me deep, half my heart, and now it is pulled from me and there is no replacement. I am exiled from you.

There is some ambiguity, as there always was. You were never ashamed, or you said you were not, and I was not either. There was never clarity in us, no edges, just blurs. Love and hate, friendship and more than, anger and peace, tenderness and lust, brotherhood and violation, they were all in you and me and us.

I told you once what my love meant, that there would be no distinction between us, that I would promise to love you and make you whole and fight for you and with you. You wanted to help me, to help heal the wounds you made, to make us both happy. You promised to never betray me, to let me live, and to love me. You broke every promise, but I won't take that I didn't expect it.

You called it weakness, mine. That subservient curve in me, the streak of your master and your slave all rolled into one. I knew it was weakness even as it frothed and drowned me, pulled me undercurrent. I would pull you with me a thousand times, make you suffer with me while you punished me. Punished me for my love and my body and my hate and my weakness. I will punish you, sweetly as I always have. You know what I am capable of. I could bury you, drown you, suffocate you, inflame you. I already have begun, though you had a head start. You punish me now, even as the hate seethes in me, and glows at my edges and spikes my guts with delicious strength, for that weakness that burns in me still. You see it, everyone sees it, that trust and openness shows plain on my face like the cut you made late at night when you wanted no one else to have me like you had me. And they will never, never like you.

You will break my heart too many times to count, as you have. You will hate me and lie about me, insulate yourself from me, drive me to and back from suicide.

I wouldn't have you any other way. I wish you would let life in. I can't keep it out, and it will tear me up, but promise to not let me be the final nail in that coffin for you. I will not shroud you. Be alive, Mi Vida, te amo.

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