it was the frustration.
the frustration caused by
your arbitrary outbursts of anger,
whilst vomiting words of resentment and regret.
words that melted into my veins,
tarnishing my blood
with the ink that fueled my writers hand.

the dependency and obligations that i had to be yours,
and yours only.
the suffocation entrapped me
              (((inside of a cage)))
                       so small.
once i finally remembered,
"i could spread my wings."
i realized your latch couldn't hold me captive.

the salty tears that endlessly
stained my cheeks,
swelled my eyes,
and shortened my breath.
the emotions, the motions,
my body was speaking to me.
i was finally able to listen.

the intensity of emotions
without regard for
                           emotional intelligence.
it never made for a successful relationship,
but it sure as hell made for a good story.

our love ended at the cost of many cons,
but it came with a recipe for beautiful prose.