“Don’t ask if you don’t mean it,” I said.
“I have had….things….happen, and I am cautious.”
You shook your head. “I mean it,” you insisted. “Pick a ring.”
I excitedly browsed, trusting your dream and intent.
Not a week later: “I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s fair.”
“I love you both; I promise I do.”
Where is she now, so many years later,
and where are we, distant but struggling to remain one?
Have trauma, will travel.
I will travel until I find my home,
where I can be un-hurt, un-harmed, not expected
to answer when asked “when are you making it official?”
Have trauma, will travel.
I will travel to the place in my dreams,
where I am safe, where I can be alone.
A place which only exists in my mind.
There’s oceans and a well stocked home,
on the beach, on a land that is mine,
where I am free to be sheltered from the storms of life.
There I sit, alone, while distant but friendly neighbors wave.
Have trauma, will travel.
I’ll travel until I find my safe harbor,
even if it means being away from you,
you who broke me, again and again,
just because you could.
More importantly, you broke me
Because I let you.
I’ll never make that mistake again.
DoubleSpeak 