I told you,
this isn’t what love looks like.

Weeks passed,
your jealousy crept in,
like shadows under the door,
until I could barely breathe
without explaining why.

I told you,
this isn’t what trust feels like.

You grabbed my arms,
bruises bloomed beneath your grip,
and I apologized
for the way you hurt me.

I told you,
this isn’t how love works.

The car screeched,
you chased me down two-way streets,
forcing me to the edge,
and all I could do
was run.

I told you,
this isn’t the way I want to live.

But still, I stayed.
In your tears, I found guilt,
in your rage, I found fear.
I wanted to leave,
but leaving felt like losing.

I told you,
I’ll fix it.
But I was breaking inside.

The night came when my hands,
desperate, lashed back.
You cried as though I was the monster,
and I believed you.

I told myself,
I’m strong enough to fix this.
But I was drowning.

Until one day,
I stopped speaking,
stopped running,
and simply said:
Enough.

I left,
not broken,
but bruised and breathing.
And that was enough.

Help is available. Call 800-799-7233 or text ‘BEGIN’ to 88788. Read A Call for Safety for more information.