October 6th 2017:

I've dedicated myself to you, my loyalty was always true. 

You could trust me, you could be safe.

I was submerged in love with you.

You used to make me feel like it was going to be worth staying. 

You'd hold me and tell me that you loved me, filling me with radiating warmth, saying you would never do to me as others had. 

I held my hands open to you, trusting... circling my fingers on your palms.

Connecting our lines.

But now I wonder every day how many times you held someone else and said the same.

You reach your hand out to touch me and I flinch while feeling the sting of how you continued to touch her. Them.

While you kissed me, while you grasped my soft hips,  held my sides, whispering how much you loved me and needed me, that I was healing you, "don't go", while you came inside of me for two years.

Did you do the same with her, with them?

Stripped my being and my integrity as she stripped for you.

People you claimed had hurt you so ferociously, people who had sliced wounds into your back, into your soul. That I spent my energy tending to your wounds while you created mine.

People you coined "succubus", and talked negatively about as though they owed you something still.

People you hurt me with by thinking I should only be angry with them. 

While you jeopardized my emotional and physical well being. 

My spirit entirely to rubble.

I am allowed to be angry. 

I'm allowed to be hurt. 

I was never a hidden secret.

I was patient while you were off ignoring me for days. 

Disappearing and binging.

I ceased to exist as you entered yourself between their thighs, while I tossed and turned crying hysterically in my bed grasping my breathing, stirring, growing womb, until I became numb; wondering why.

Why the fuck am I bound to you?

Why the fuck didn't you just let me go?

Why the fuck would they be brave enough to look into my eyes but fail to see that I do fucking exist?

You promised your word as I forgave, 

held you near, licked your wounds while leaving my own gaping still.

You never wanted to disappoint me again. 

That you claimed you were terrible for hurting me, an unlimited fountain of excuses.

Then crawled into bed, into another's arms, again... and I will never know how many times. 

I will never know what I thought was happening in those times. 

How blinded I was by false hope.

When I found her hair on my pillow case and held it over a flame to watch it dance and rapidly shrink. 

A visual metaphor for how it made me feel, for how I hope her guilt eats her from the inside as if it'll repair what was stolen from my being.

 I felt in my soul my trust being broken.

Splintering then slicing into me and making me bleed out the way I miscarried our first and you blamed me instead of holding me.

I defended you even still, as you made a mockery of my integrity.

You walked around with your coward head held high, drunk and with pride. 

I wish I would have known, or at least listened to my own intuition that retched in my gut. 

Cringing at the sound of the distance in your voice as you made promise after promise to weave back in closer to me, to play it all over again.

I wish just once someone could have been honest. 

But that's a rare commodity these days.

I have zero trust left to account for.

And I've been broken beyond repair.

While feeling an innocent being inside me that I could have sworn was made from Love... that has no idea how you've already betrayed her by tearing pieces from me, feeling her tiny hands learning to touch, her tiny body nourished by my own; I pray she never knows these feelings. 

While I count ceiling tiles until the thoughts pass of how I would rather be dead than to continue doing this repeated bullshit dance with you and your cohorts.

Being emotionally torn from my own body, dragged violently.

Being told that I'm wrong for still loving,

That it was my fault for forgiving you.

That I found strength in the first time I forgave you.

It weakened my foundation from there.

I gave you my power and you used this to destroy me.

You let others destroy me and fed them for doing so.

As they fed from me, unknowingly being poisoned, they'll know now.

You were never magic. I was. You have no power.

You were never the warmth that the sun reflected off of you.

You were never this creative, feeling, soft creature trying to find their way in darkness the way I was.

Instead you stood in my crossroads. 

You blocked my journey, for what?

I now have to carry part of you as I try to walk away.

It's heavy,

My heart.