Belong
(2-22-11)
I belong to no one.
He tells me “I’m setting you free.”
I tell him “that’s alright,” because I enjoy being free. Solitude isn’t a prison like everyone sees.
When he says it with that tone, I know he wanted a different response that I didn’t give. So he stands there waiting for me to do or say something else.
Anything.
And I don’t.
I’m not backing down.
I jumped all the way in and he’s still afraid to get his feet wet.
Come on in darling the water is fine.
You’ve come this far, why not stay and swim.
His face stays fixed in amazement still waiting.
I’m quiet.
Before he tells me that he’s “setting me free” he tells me that he wants “space.”
Well darling, this is what space feels like:
It’s quiet, you can’t breathe, your stomach is sick and there’s no where to land.
Guess some people can’t handle Zero-Gs. It makes them nauseous.
He’s staring at me with his broken half green face that hasn’t been shaved in three days.
If he’s letting go what more can be said?
I’m wondering when he’ll lose his cool and blow.
That’s a funny thing about a stand-off…
Someone has to end it. Or draw first.
And he draws.
He tells me that he’ll leave.
What’s he want me to do?
Scream?
Kick?
React with a knee jerk response.
He’ll still walk out that door whether I give him one or not.
I say nothing and watch him walk to the door.
He slams the door shut instead of walking out it.
Nothing can be done with his fear.
I wish he would commit instead of playing this game.
All these things he tells me aren’t what he wants.
He wants to belong.
To belong to someone.
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