OCD.

The first time I saw her, everything

in my head went quiet.

All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images,

just disappeared.

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,

you don't really get quiet moments.

Even in bed I'm thinking, did I lock the door? yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

Did I lock the door? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

But when I saw her, the only thing

I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips

or the eyelash on her cheek,

the eyelash on her cheek,

the eyelash on her cheek.

I knew I had to talk to her.

I asked her out six times.

In thirty seconds.

She said yes after the third one, but none of them

felt right so I had to keep going.

On our first date, I spent more time

organizing my meal by color

than I did eating or talking to her,

but she loved it.

She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye

sixteen times, or twenty-four times

if it was Wednesday.

She loved that it took me forever to walk home

because there are a lot of cracks on the sidewalk.

When we moved in together,

She said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us

because I definitely locked the door eighteen times.

I'd always watch her mouth when she talked,

when she talked, when she talked, when she talked,

when she talked.

When she said she loved me,

her mouth would curl up at the edges.

At night, she'd lay in bed and watch me

turn all the lights off and on

and off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off.

She'd close her eyes

and imagine that days and nights

were just passing in front of her.

Some mornings, I'd start kissing her

goodbye but she'd just leave because

I was making her late for work.

When I stopped at a crack in the sidewalk,

she just kept walking. When she said

she loved me, her mouth was a straight line.

She told me I was taking up too much

of her time. Last week she started

sleeping at her mother's place.

She told me that she shouldn't have let me

get so attached to her,

that this whole thing was a mistake,

but how can it be a mistake

that I don't have to wash my hands

after I touch her?

Love is not a mistake.

It's killing me that she can run away

from this and I just can't. I can't

go out and find someone new

because I always think of her.

Usually, when I obsess over things,

I see germs sneaking into my skin.

I see myself crushed by an endless

succession of cars. She was the first

beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.

I want to wake up every morning

thinking about the way she

holds her steering wheel. How she turns

shower knobs like she's opening a safe.

How she blows out candles

blows out candles blows out candles blows out

candles blows out candles

blows out candles blows out—

Now I just think about who else

is kissing her. I can't breathe because

he only kisses her once. He doesn't care

if it's perfect. I want her back so bad,

I leave the door unlocked.

I leave the lights on.