i fear you more than i love you
sometimes i wish you were dead so that i wouldn't have to leave you but i wouldn't have to live with you either
i went to dinner with a friend you forbade me to see. when i hugged him, his body was neither as soft nor as warm as yours and i didn't like it very much. there was no sexual tension; only liberation, and deep, deep guilt.
sometimes i lie to you about my phone being out of battery. it's on airplane mode because i need some time to myself and you don't like it when i ask for "alone time". why do you need alone time, you always ask. i don't know how to explain it to you anymore.
i wish i had never met you because i am in a cycle of evil and fear and guilt and pain and sure some days you make me feel loved but mostly you just drive me insane. insane, not in the oh my gosh i'm so in love way but in the i don't know what's real anymore way.
i feel weak because i am not strong enough to leave you.
i feel strong because through it all, i have survived.
i would prefer if you put the conclusion in the beginning
if only all things laid themselves out like that, or
maybe they already do, maybe we are all just a little
too hopeful, a little too willing to work on fallow fields,
to swallow, fill our arteries with the marble of intuition
and curse it to the stars when our heart wants revenge.
by nature, we are selective in what we see, in how we
react to red, to flags waving with fervor when every other
indicator dictates the should of their stillness. by nature,
i think, we are accustomed to looking away when someone
shows us their hand and instead, we look down at our own,
reason away what we are willing to give up, what we are willing
to rearrange in hopes that, for them, it was all just a bluff,
knowing full and well that it is never just that.