Am I intended to be jealous?
Should I have such contradicting emotions?
You confuse me, dear love.
“I love you”, is your claim,
But I am tangled, twisted, feeling tiny-
Like a bump on a twig, grown out of a branch
Among all the branches of your large tree called concerns.
It is not pleasant;
It is not right to be this way.
You are hurtful, my love.
Why are you not the happy thing they say you should be?

I have longed to find in us what I believe is joy.
So I try my best.
But your actions cut my confidence;
Your words burn my hope.
And still I stay close,
As though on a chain.
It’s a leash you’ve created with your manipulation,
Your way of leaving me without self esteem
And your false cadences of affection.
So this is how you wound me.

And now I resist.
I hold my shaking hand up and finally declare,
“You can not make me feel this way.”
Did God give you this right?
Did He entitle you to my heart,
And along with it present to you authority to do as you will?
I dare say no;
I dare say he gave to me that place.
So at last, I will not let you do as you have any longer.
I refuse to be so small.
I end this.
And I dare say I am allowed to find real happiness now.