Catching knives

I drew this line in the sand; I kept treading over it and drawing a new one, further every time. Here and no further I said, but maybe just a little more. I made compromise after compromise until there was so little left of me. I was drawing the lines on myself, my body aching and bruised from all the marks I had made. ‘Just a little more’ I said, ‘you can sacrifice a little more’. If you want something you make compromises and the lines continued moving further up my legs towards the middle of my body. ‘It’s okay, because you are compromising.’

At 4:30AM my heart cries out for you. I try to keep from sobbing but once the first breath escapes from my lungs I cannot not stop. My tears begin to dance down my face and seep into my pillow. My mouth contorts and
I feel ashamed to miss someone this much. My body jerks against my will and I can not for the life of me keep it together.

I couldn’t fall back into a sleep I knew would let me pretend. I wanted to pretend it was not real; I was falling asleep to the memory of you and the sound of your breathing.

It just hurts too much to remember, and it all means too much to ever forget. What do I do now? I do not know what I am supposed to do, if this is how it is supposed to feel.

It was all a lie.

“Immature love says: ‘I love you because I need you.’ Mature love says ‘I need you because I love you.”

― Erich Fromm


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