Member-only story
The Cost of Choosing You
The anger in you does not belong to me,
Yet somehow I become the place it lands;
You turn your private war against my plea,
Then leave me bleeding from your clenched hands.
I offer you my love without a shield,
You answer with a silence hard as stone;
I bring the wounds I thought we both could heal,
And find myself abandoned with my own.
You say Not now-and build the wall up high,
Then say Not later-as if time were gone;
I stand outside the hours passing by,
Still asking what I did to make you gone.
When do you have time for me to breathe?
When do I get to matter in your day?
How long must I keep begging you to see
The parts of me your distance wears away?
I have been patient past the point of grace,
Made room for every storm you would not name;
I let you use my body as a place
To drop the burning weight of your own shame.
You are angry with yourself, I know,
