the Art of Abuse

i had to name you. one year later, i finally call you what you were: an abuser.

does it ever hurt, knowing that you drove a knife through me without ever stabbing me?

does it ever haunt you, how i kept begging for you to stop but you were drunk on ego?

do you ever get scared of the way it will all come back to you?

it was easy to love you. it was easier to unlove you.

but oh, just how difficult it can be to call things what they were.

do you ever tell your mother that she birthed someone she would be ashamed of if she knew all the ways he can wreck a life?

what is it like to walk around this world convincing yourself i deserved it?

what is it like knowing that my only crime was letting you love me?

does she know all that you carry inside? you probably smell her hair and wonder what i'm doing.

i've finally named you. because i've forgiven myself.

i held myself while you looked at the sunrise and told me it's time to let go.

it was easy to let you go.

but oh, just how difficult it can be to let go who you are when you're in love.

it was easy to replace you.

but oh, just how difficult it can be to trust again.

look at me.

i finally call you what you were.

does it ever hurt, knowing that you will have to carry your guilt all your life?