We stood outside the ring. It was fire. The ground was made of fly paper. Each time I told you I loved you, my feet stuck to the ground.

I could smell the maple syrup you poured over those cute little mini-pancakes the first time we spent the night together. I tried to remember a time when I could see anyone else, and my memory was a bar of colors accompanied by that late night humming sound. I wanted to go a million rounds in a few seconds. I wanted to lay down on the ring, the carpet, your bed, and claim KO.

I’ll never fight with you again. This is a no-hold barred event. This is for keeps.

I heard the bell ding and followed you back to the dressing room. Our kitchen. Our bathroom. There, you cleaned my old wounds and helped me unpack my suitcase.

I was and am a terrible prizefighter. You are the champion. And I will always take a dive for you.


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