Two Doves Poem by Bjorn Visser

Like slamming doors
Wood floors
My fists thumping gets louder in my minds,
Darkness.
Slamming in the tall, pale and flat surface of the wall
Like your back. Beating like a normal heart should

The bones in my feet smashed up
As I kick the corners of the house, like
I kicked the corners of your body
For hours. A kick that even you must admit pleased.
Our torment continued for hours

Running in naked rage,
Forgetting to step down the spiraling steps.
You taunt me like a toddler should.
Child’s eyes framed by a man’s brows.
Your voice of deep base, emitting child like noises.
Cooing almost.

It’s all in my mind. What’s left of it
After you took the position
Of my ghost.

The anger, like a child’s,
I am a hypocrite,
Running like I was being abused
When in fact, I was the abuser.

Slamming doors never gave me the pleasure
Your bruised body did.
An artwork I made.
My limbs like paintbrushes in the hands of a master
Caressing your soft, child’s flesh
Occasionally slipping over the skin of an adult.
The one you hoped to be.
Pretend to be

Noises are louder at night
Louder and brighter like silence,
And for that,
I am sorry.