I'll let you go

I have always been a vacant lover. 

Communication does not come easy when you're a child from a verbally abusive home.

So when the words, "You never tell me what's wrong. How I can be better." escape your mouth, an admittance you've held onto for far too long,

I give "I don't know"s. I give "Everything's fine"s. I give "I love everything about you"s.

I lie through my teeth, because I fear the more I say, the sooner you'll go.

 

I have always been a silent lover.

There's a certain kind of warped self-gratification in not being argumentative. 

So when the words, "I'm not happy." tumble off your tongue like pieces of glass,

I do not weep. I do not scream. I do not beg for another chance. 

I sit in silence, the words playing like a scratched record in my head. 

 

I have always been an ignorant lover.

The "honeymoon phase" is where I take up permanent residence, your faults unseeable. 

So when the words, "I can't be with you." tumble off your tongue, each syllable a knife to my heart,

I am blindsided. I am devestated. I am left terrified of what life without you will be like.

I never saw the signs, the ones that slowly began wrapping their fingers around your throat, suffocating. 

 

I have always been a dedicated lover.

Critics rave that I can put others happiness before my own no matter the circumstance. 

So when the words, "I'm so sorry but it's over." claw their way through your teeth, the pain in your eyes so clear,

I agree with your decison. I agree to let you go. I agree to what you want.

If there is more joy in being away from me than with me, I will stand by your side. 

 

Because I love you, I'll let you go. 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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