She phrases it so violently, “I love you,” just like a large moose fighting for dominance of a bog that has food, enough for the winter. She pierces the eardrum with her scream, keeping the eyes direct onto my chest, hoping for the hairs to draw up and burst on fire. But alas they don’t, and she grieves for her inexplicable loss of the battle of wits. Her timely burst brought upon me a segment of fear, brought by the words of intimacy, but so stated with anger and disappointment. I know my love for her has been erratic, and she certainly deserves more, but going insane is not the solution I try to say. I bring this to her attention with the utmost care and concern, but she yells intimate phrases of jubilation between kicks and wails of fist throwing. I cry for her. And she jumps off the deep-end by flipping me off and complaining about nothing, I follow her masterpiece of craziness landing another head jarring scream off the top of her lungs, just saying, “I love you.”

From Russell Sivey