When I let you in I saw you
as a source of strength, not
a drain. And I was right, but only
for a while. You have walked
over me, firmly, even as I lay down,
willingly. You have walked over me
so forcefully that the imprint
of you will forever be embedded
in my heart. You were not
the first, and, knowing myself, you
will not be the last. But this
is the last straw, and soon
though your impression will never
fade from my flesh, it will stop
becoming deeper and more painful
with every passing day. I am strong
enough for a last stand, cowardly
though it may be. Inaction is
a form of action, and I
am giving up.