A fiery one accosts me today, as most days.
I feel she has been following me for much of my life.
She is my teacher.  She draws the reigns of my body,
showing me how to surrender, that I might gain control.
But control I do not find.  Rather, my indignation grows
from so oft' being reprimanded.  But she reminds me
that I truly have never possessed any choice.
She reminds me to slide off peacefully, like water,
with grace, with dignity--of which I'm certain
I've none left.  I have been taken when I did not want to give;
I have tried to give and found that none would take.
Now I'm certain the dregs of my purity have eaten through my stomach
just as acid.  My flower withers without care.  It is like
some vile disease.  I waited too long, and now nobody wants it--
this thing that I forever saved.  Neither does anyone want a child.
They only wish that I'd shut up.  (She reminds me.  I already know.)
And so I fall asleep--or fall apart--or fall into my grave.

You were always looking for a reason to say goodbye.
You should have known the only reason you'd need is that you want to.
There was never a need to lie straight to my face.
Instead you left me with anger, resentment and bitterness.
But it's been awhile since then and I'm better.
Not fixed, not whole, not as if it had never happened.
But close enough that remembering you doesn't make me want to break things.
So now I am here.
With new friends, in a new place, where everything is different.
I'm looking to meet someone new.
Although I haven't found them yet.
Part of me worries that I'm broken, and just haven't realized it.
What if I never find someone, because of what you did to me?