Giving Up

Sometimes the air is so thick between us that I find myself gasping for breath. The air thick with bitter resentment, mixed with stagnating anger. Inside my head I feel like I am clutching,
clawing and grabbing my flesh, to rip open a passage way, to inhale.

I wonder, as people walk by if they can see my stifling oppression. The foot, your foot as it stomps me down into the ground. The hands, your hands as they bind me to you like a straightjacket on a mental patient.


Was it always like this, from the moment we met?
Did I walk into this incinerator of powerlessness with my eyes open? What was there about you that made me want this? Or should I be asking, what was it about me?

Where was I when the words "love yourself" were being passed down through generations.
Whose voice whispered inside my head that I wasn’t
strong enough to walk away from this. From you.
Who shut my eyes to the obvious, or did I blind myself.

Even as I ask myself these painful questions, knowing the answers that I won’t allow myself to face, I know that I will continue on this journey.


Isn’t it funny how you don’t know how much you can take until you take it…and take it…and take it…