The door stopped short of crushing my chest between passion and a timeless period of internal ripping guilt.

The kind that feels like a mill grinding mercilessly, shredding without pity every bit of my peace.

Like brave heart, I killed  desire in the name of love. Sacrifice unexplainable gratification to be right.

I'm the hero who saved the day with a gut turning ache which is feeding on my thought like a parasite as my reward. Cheer me on...

So I smile while glancing through a window to that moment; I grabbed the door and pull it back so hard that it bruised my ribs and some of my selfish will to save my moral integrity.

I'm not sad, just hate the fact that it feels this uncomfortable being in the right.