he made me feel like i was difficult to love. still, i couldn’t help but try. i kept trying until the chaffing of my calloused heart against the inside of my ribcage became too much. i’d lost sight of how i could ever go on this time, another battering, another vital organ i’d offer up as sacrifice.

i sensed our toxicity longer before our first fight. felt something wrong long before i felt something right. knowing that it was not always my fault nor cause of all our violent nights. still, i couldn’t help but try. 

becoming nervous about my appearance, trying to fit into the distorted image he wished for me, the only way he liked to see, through his rose-tinted rearview vision mirror. do i look pretty? do i fit the silohuette in your vision? do i invoke the desire you felt for me once upon a lifetime ago?

alas, desire was found far from my flowerbed, found within another womans as i had anxiously dread, & in the mirror, i faded away instead. 

& he goes about preaching his apologies, declaring how little she meant to him & projecting onto me by stating he thought i wouldn’t give a fuck, that he’s suprised i cared so much. 

a part of me insists on speaking up, yet in the haste of my hesistation I realise our time has come & gone. he’s been long gone for some time now, if i am honest with myself, despite buckling under the burden of being the only one who felt anything throughout this at all.

he said he’s sorry. he didn’t mean to hurt me. he won’t do it again. and i choose to believe him when he says he won’t hurt me again. 

understanding i’ve learned not to expect, but bear in mind that if i left or he did – I would have noone, be nothing, don’t you get why i’d be intent on avoiding that?

he leaves me emotionally paralysed, to the point where i believed him every time he apologised – regardless of knowing full well that his words are nothing more than lies.

i was never loved. a reason why my heart is incredibly flawed. this is all i believe i’m good for. 

© AleCat 2017

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