I don't know what is easier,
staying in a burning house,
or watching it burn.

I feel like a prisoner
amid all the chaos
that defines the parameters of my life,

Entangled in battles that aren’t mine,
when I can barely find the strength to fight my own.

Enforcing silence upon
all the oppression I have endured,

Feeling like a therapist with confidentiality clauses
constantly being shoved down my throat,

except no law is binding me to stay silent,
but there is simply no one to vent to.

Is this how you want to write our story?

Is that how you want to define our love?

Are those the parts you want to hold on to, stronger than you hold onto me?

Are you happier with these thoughts you prisoned in your head?

Is this

Is that how you want to end our story?

My dear
the future
is new,
it's the unknown
that you probably want to explore,
so go ahead,
move on,
move forward,
live for the present
and reach for what's awaiting you,
leave all behind
that belongs
to the past
and the gone,
be one with the wind,
let it move you
as if your entities
were made of sand,
scatter into
what's meant for you
and who's the one for you.

I still remember the first time your hand reached for mine,
I still remembering my hand going numb upon the touch of yours,
I still remember the sight of your eyes trying to trace my eyes as your hand reached for mine,
waiting for a reaction, an expression,,
I still remember the echo of your accent flowing through my ears,

I am starting to feel it again,
an alarm going off, right after
a red flag if fluttered,
except my flight or flight is not quite excited,
I am stuck in-between,
contemplating flight or fight,
confused on what comes next,
dissonant about the rationality of my decisions,
and afraid of the consequences of my actions,
filled with thoughts, filling with thoughts,
and overflowing with thoughts.

Being with you isn't easy,
but it's worth it,
it's right,

Being with you isn't a choice,
it's a need,

Being with you