Those nights:
Having discussed it in every which way I acknowledge that I’m better off.
And yet, there’s just something so
Holy
About the way
You held me.
I hate that I miss you.
I hate that there is a portion of me that is dedicated to not healing so you can remain, attached like a parasite. Intoxicating.
No matter how painful your latch may be.
I suppose that is the nature of the beast. It doesn’t care if your meds are in check or if you’ve sought help in countless ways; abuse is an addiction, binding in its own ways. Not because of the way they make you worthless and small, but because of the short, blinding moments they make you real. It can be when they make love to you, when they address you and look you in the eye, when they sit mildly closer to you and you can feel their heat radiate.
It’s painful, but it’s as simple as that.
Twisted as it may be,
Love.
















