Not really sure what to say
finally made a choice,
a choice for me, a choice for peace,
for serenity, for a ceasing
of all this complexity,
a cessation of guilt always on my back,
that I’m not grateful enough
for what you bring to me,
back and forth with PTSD,
and you not giving me what I need.
I finally did it,
ripped the bandaid off,
but maybe the timing was really rough,
maybe this was one time
where you hoped I cried wolf,
but there’s really no timing ideal for this,
to reveal that my love for you is gone,
that my will to try and endure has moved on,
that I cannot persist under different motives,
and pretend I can abide or float on.
You asked me if there was any chance,
any sliver of us making it through,
I said no, and what did you go and do?
Checked yourself in;
Oh, D, you ripped my heart in two.
Now what the hell am I supposed to do?
I can’t live my life taking care of you,
with all the hell we’ve been through,
externally and otherwise inflicted,
I cannot have my love held hostage,
nor its length dictated.
Emily C. Poésie © June 3, 2016