..it all seems reminiscent of Alice’s slip into the rabbit hole.

Story by Lana Vee - lana@crookedcontent.us Photos by Gianna Leo Falcon - Gleofalcon@gmail.com

Photo ©Gianna Leo Falcon

How do you thank someone for eroding you? Do you send flowers? Chocolates? Do you write a long letter and obsess over the grammar for hours? I don’t really know. I’m trying to decide, but I can’t find footing in the dimly lit alley between gratitude and blind rage.

Meandering, empty, maybe it’s all in your head, love is the most exhausting of them all. Love exhibits a dream-like quality once it’s gone. You forget how you fell in the first place; it all seems reminiscent of Alice’s slip into the rabbit hole.

Photo ©Gianna Leo Falcon

You conveniently forget a stinging string of words spewed in your direction. You caress memories so deeply, even the painful ones feel like sweet nothings. You staring at him, smiling at his fleeting vulnerability, amazed at the tender center in the toughest son of a bitch you’ve ever known. Your memory lane reels replay themselves. They make quite the masochist out of you.

You over-think and you over-blink and you over-squint to see if maybe he’d let you in a little deeper. He never does. You panic. You camp outside his walls built so high thunder billows and ricochets you into silence.

Photo ©Gianna Leo Falcon

You buffer his blows. Distill his high.

You nurse his fear; mend his shortcomings. You spend hours on a park bench navigating fake realities searching desperately for clarity.

You and him in ten years, him and you plus two little baby maybe yous, and what would you dos, and where would we be if I, you know, thought maybe you and I would cry if we, us, you, and I.

Photo ©Gianna Leo Falcon




You let him play in your hair, swim in your secrets. You let him keep stupid trinkets.

He toys with your bobby pin, slowly between his fingers, while she showers. Find holes in his cornea you seep through so when you aren’t around anymore and she’s looking at him she finds you. Like a crazed homicidal sociopath he scavenges for the best artillery and finally blows his portion of your mental real estate to pieces. Brings popcorn just in case he gets hungry while your precious pink matter splatters.

Photo ©Gianna Leo Falcon

Release. You try to exit gracefully, but, like most men his age, he had issues with premature detachment. You wallow in disappointment. Thoughts of him make you feel like you’re perpetually drowning. Could you imagine what that feels like? To drown, perpetually? I wouldn’t wish it on my killer.

It will be days, weeks, months, but, as sure as autumn in October, for him it will never be over. He’ll reach you when his night turns into morning, and he’s left with the memory of your scent to console him. You won’t hope to slither into his cornea and eclipse his pupils. He will project you onto every woman who hands herself over to receive his polyester touch.

Photo ©Gianna Leo Falcon

You’ll remember me, vindictive, with a hair-trigger temper.

How do you thank someone for eroding you? Nothing to do but to let love teach them. Love knows no reason. It proceeds without caution like tsunami waves tonguing down a skyscraper’s lobby.

5 Responses to “Erosion”

  1. Candy G says:

    Awesome. Well written! The visuals that were amazing!

  2. Ivan says:

    Dope, very well written

  3. Rafaelina Siri says:

    This has inspired me to start writing again! Very much in depth, thoughts and ideas that we already think of silently. Keep it coming!

  4. kian says:

    So raw. Wow.