I have been so lucky to have had amazing, fantastic relationships full of love and support. Until they weren’t.
Then I ended those relationships. In doing so I set my soul on fire and shredded my
heart into millions of tiny pieces.
Ashes and dust remain. I breathe in and I exhale toxins. It lingers in the air, waiting.
And this thing that organically happens between people, the thing where you give and take, where you love and hate, cuddle and hit, hold and let go…. I can’t do that.
I’m still spewing poison.
I can’t. The amazing, wonderful beginning and the solid, steady middle has an end. The end is where I shred myself. The end is where I set myself on fire. The end is where I look down at my feet and mutter that I’m sorry. I thought I could do this but I can’t watch someone I love, love someone else. I thought I could be the sub you need, but I can’t. I thought this would have a happy ending but it won’t.
Then I strike the match inside myself and find the sledge hammer tucked away.
There was a woman. She and I hung out and she was crazy fun. One night in the dark with her soft curves snuggled against me she whispered her love. I stared into the dark. The taste of her still in my mouth. I’m so sorry I can’t love her. I purposely drifted from her. I was in the middle of a fire and destruction. I would begin another one shortly. I didn’t have enough kindling left for her.
I had a friend tell me if he could pluck a person from the sky for me to love, he would. I chuckled and said “Thank you. I’d not love that person or the next.”
My ashes are still smoldering. My dust still strangling me. I don’t have any thing left to destroy. Except you.
I refuse to destroy you.