Jesus, is this what it feels like to step off the treadmill with llama thighs onto solid earth, or did I step from one treadmill to another?
I don’t believe in romance anymore, yet I come to you when I’m at my most tired and weak. Afraid and filled with need.
Asking for a couch to stay on, busting in without apology or explanation after I left without a word.
Silent ice in response to your puppy dog eyes. The kind of eyes that have systematically murdered me in a series of little deaths before.
Pushing away the blanket and you know why but I can’t say it you can’t make me.
There are few places where I feel safe crying. It usually comes unbidden when I walk alone in the open air.
I have witnessed time and time again a woman using tears to manipulate.
I have accepted advice as gospel about never letting them see you cry.
I have been provoked to tears only to be told I’m worthless and then accused of crying to manipulate.
My hands were tied well.
And though I’ve tried, I cannot do this alone.
Yet, how are you supposed to feel when I act this way? How can you possibly understand?
Thank you for the peace. Sorry that it’s terrifying for me to accept it.