Choices

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

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