You would think after all we have been through you would be a little bit gentle with me. We have shown each other scars that no one else has seen. We have shared the most intimate secrets that only parts of our brain have been privy to. We spoke of things we shelved in hidden places for fear of indulging in them and losing our way. And yet here you are sucker-punching me dead between the eyes with no forewarning.
My tummy churns as your well-sharpened filleting knife meticulously flutters on my heart; leaving equal-sized ribbons dancing in the gush of blood. The sheer intellect of your maneuvers is so impressive it takes a moment to grasp what is happening. I watch as my eyes take in each word and translate their meaning in my brain. A process that would take a split second to complete takes longer. I process it and receive the information but part of me refuses to comprehend it and requests a review from the advisory panel. Only to receive that exact same message relayed again. I stare in horror at the implication of the information and take a few deep breaths to calm myself.
How is this possible that the one I trusted with my deepest darkest vulnerabilities has armed themselves with a sword and taken a jab at my tenderlings? The worst part of it all is I never saw it coming. We slayed our demons, reveled in our desires, and held hands in our embarrassments together; and now you are the arrow in my Achilles heel. I stand on a forced bent knee bleeding from the ankle, tears streaming down my face, and a blurred image of you in a follow-through stance after shooting an arrow.
I try to comprehend it, your excuses are threadbare and all I see is another one. Another problem I brought upon myself. Another sore I allowed to fester unattended. Another needle I allowed to prick me. Another snake I coddled for warmth only to be bitten and left cold.
You win, I will not fight this one. You win, may the applause ring on for as long as you require their satisfaction. You win, may this award be a gold plaque with a mirror finish. You win, may your requested silence go undisturbed. I bow out gracelessly, bruised, battered, and beaten, bleeding out on the battlefield; watching the vultures close in as the little life left in me drains out. May you have a long life and may mine be as peaceful and silent as the dead.
penpushers 