the gravity of what he did weighed on me for so long

(causing my ribs to crack so I could never draw in a full breath, and my legs to give out from holding in the tension of the truth)

so long, that I'd forgotten what it felt like before he touched my skin

I'm remembering now, and it hurts as it cracks me open and tears down my walls
this facade that everything is 'just fine, thanks!' has worn me down and held me together
I performed the act for so long, I forced it to become my reality
the whispered guilt crept into my bones and settled there like a cancer, spreading in a paralyzing metastasis
with each extra chance given I nailed myself to my little proverbial cross
knowing that I couldn't be both the victim and a martyr, so I chose my own Sainthood

and now he's gone

the dam collapses and now it's drowning me and I am drowning!
and there is no way for me to swim, he's killing me even now
and yet if he is the death of me I'll rise again in a spiteful show of metanoia

I'll be back transcended, back wearing armour
back flaunting my stigmata and with the unguarded meat of my heart, I'll tear apart every veil he draped over my scars
I'll bring about Armageddon just to see that traitor cower