A crack precedes the split.

My horror-filled eyes and your blind wonder

as I open down the middle and you behold my blue-cold fission,

and my light spilling out like moonmilk, like the weeping of stars,

casting shadows on your face.

“You’d better look away,” I say. “The light’s not good for your eyes.”

And you reply, “Have you ever looked at the sun and thought it shouldn’t be?”

“Look away from me,” I say. “You’d best look away.”

The room is hot. There’s sweat on your brows, dotting your nose.

“Come now, look away.”

My smile is thin and hard, like the ice on the parking lot pavement you nearly slipped on. I wish you’d slipped. Fallen. Hit your head. Then we wouldn’t be doing this.

Every time I try to hide, the crack gets wider.

Look away from me.

“Look away,” I say.

My fingertips are numb where they clamor at the edges of the split.

Your answer is simply, “I will not. Have you ever seen a leaf on a tree and thought it shouldn’t be?”

“I’ll leave,” I say.

“Have you ever—“

“I have not. I will not. I will never!” I’m frantic, split open, all my color spilling out. “Don’t you see? I hate you for what you are doing now.”

As the ice hates the pick.

As the forest hates the river that cuts through and not around.

This is worse than nakedness and whatever protection instinct is left compels me to kill you. Extinguish the threat to the light.

“Have you ever found something living and thought it shouldn’t be?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Many things.”

That pale gaze of yours. “What?”

“I have found cheaters, liars, and lonesome wretches loved especially by no one. Sinners with red eyes. Men who would pluck the innocence from a child like it was a maraschino cherry. Devils. I have seen dark. The inside, devouring dark, which leaves only husks behind. I have met countless dangerous things and to any that would hurt me, I say, look away.”

“I will not hurt you,” you say. “I will not look away.”

The killing urge softens softens softens into something more tender.

My inside, preserving light drenches the motel room from corner-to-corner before disappearing, blotted out by your body eclipsing mine.