it is only after I think about it,
I realize that
it's been a year
since I've told someone
I loved them,
and meant it.
When he slumbers and drapes an arm,
heavy, casually across my body,
I curl into a ball,
trying to wring my body of this ache
the same way one wrings a sopping cloth
And when he's moving on top of me,
pinning my arms above my body,
I squeak "Please,"
and he refrains, thinking it's because I am afraid,
because I was raped,
but the truth is it just reminds me too much
of those young lovers on a hotel bed,
who once were us.
As my breath hooks on a sob,
he holds me close,
and whispers into my ear
"It's okay, you're safe here."
and I miss you the most.
When we lay in bed, that last night,
when I had surrendered my final fight
in trying to hold on to something I could
no longer grasp,
and told me
no matter what,
It is only when I think about it,
that I realize
if I had the chance to go back,
and live that lie again,
knowing all the pain it would cause,
I would, without a second thought.