I’m contemplating whether to live without love would be easier than living in it.

Around my throat the umbilical cord shackles me to falsehoods. My hands are bound by indifference. I’m losing sleep to the fear of losing him.

My feet walk on hot coals. Around my waist I feel the pull of the past in the form of a scarred arm. One step forward, two steps back.

My heart beats like a fist through a wall. My head aches with the pressure of a thousand storms and the truth isn’t even out there yet.

So many judge as I bite back the tears of fury. They tell me it’s a mistake. I want to skin them so they can see that I am the same as them underneath. So who are they to judge when they themselves ran back to love with open arms, no questions asked, chance after chance, forgetting the past or the punch?

I’m desperately seeking to appease all but would they do the same for me? I’ve spent so much of my life not living that I’ve forgotten that it’s mine. I’ve forgotten my right to live my life.

And yet, for all my declarations I am cowering in the corner of my own nightmares, not moving, too scared to make changes, too afraid of the dangers, too caught up in the hurricane, too hell bent on the foetal position and shunning the voice of her who would do anything for love.

She did once.

She did everything before and it bought her pain. Granted, the circumstances were always grey but grey clouds bring rain. I cannot let her go there again.

But she cannot let me live in fear and constantly wondering what if. She cannot let me let go of him.

She knows that still, after all this time, what it means to me when he smiles. She knows how it makes me feel when he holds me, how he makes me laugh wholeheartedly, how he sees right through me, how I love too deeply.

I’m contemplating whether to live without love would be easier than living in it.

Yes it would, but it wouldn’t be living.


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