“Because I loved you.”

 

Really?

That was love?

That was what

the books

the movies

the songs

rave about?

I’m not sure of that love,

but I am sure

that was not that love.

 

You argue, “It was that love.”

My protest stays silent.

 

But

when the silent comes too loud,

I think of the things

I should say-

I could say-

I would say-

to you about that love.

 

I would argue

the lies you dug about me

the beatings you gave me

the turmoil you left me

 

I would argue the times

you told everyone

I was disloyal

that I cheated

that I wouldn't hold only you

that I only wanted you for sex

 

I would say

that I shoved everyone else away

that only time your eyes

were only on me was when you kissed me

that I held myself to you so close

you called me clingy, obnoxious.

that there was a night you shoved

yourself on me, til no wasn’t a word.

 

I would fight you calling me broken

when the only thing that shattered me

was you

 

I would call you out on poisoning me

making him so hard to love

making me tremble when

he kissed me

making me worried he would be the same

 

I would.

But I won't.

 

 

Instead my protest will stay silent.

 

 

Instead I'll think to myself

what I should say-

what I could say-

what I won't say

to you about that love.