Period

I text. You ignore.
I cry. You whistle.
I blame. You blame.

Period.

My blood won't turn you into a vampire,
but it steals my sleep.
Smoke scratches your lungs,
numbing your emotions.

It makes you cold.
It makes me crazy.

Period.

You act. I react.
I blame. You deceive.
My body traumatizes you.
Your words ruin my peace.

Therapists. Priests. Help.

Again,
I forge words from pain.

Period.

You need a pause.
I need an ending.
You want lockdown.
I want to cry out.

Period.

You are a free bird.

I am only human—

a woman.

Your choice

is to live inside the cage of your fears.

My choice

is to burn

inside my feelings.

Period.