This week, a woman was shot
in my city. It happened but a few blocks
from where my children, and I, sleep.
This morning, her ex was found
in his car, on a road I cross every day,
four months after their
relationship had ended.
His suicide is thought to be
his admission of guilt,
of what could have been.
I will not condone murder,
and love is only love if it is mutual,
otherwise, McCullers explains it best.
Between lover and beloved, lover
is the more favorable position,
but intoxicated with fantastic notion
of what this person makes you feel,
beloved becomes victim,
playing with fire, like a fearless
stuntman, risking more,
everytime they interact.
If lover cannot handle pain,
bitterness will take over, and fester
in that broken heart.
Beloved, let me love you
by letting you go.
There will be
no coercion of my own will
I would never bring about your end,
and I believe the fact that
a man takes his own life, after robbing her
of her life,
shows that even lovers
know their plight. Not having
to hold, is not the worst thing,
if the other does not wish
to be held.
What matters is when we realize
to let go.
I’ve been in far too many situations
where someone wanted me to
be, for them, what I was not,
and I didn’t have the courage to
speak against them.
It is just as frightening
to be beloved,
as it is painful
to be lover.