Love & War

I’m tired of fighting, I say.

This is true, I am exhausted

Of being the last warrior standing

Of killing myself for those who cannot wield their own sword

But tired is my camouflage.

The truth is I am scared.

Terrified even.

That by fighting for someone I am giving away too much of myself.

Wearing down my own defenses.

Every battle leaves a crack in my armor.

But how much longer will my armor last?

I’m starting to feel that tightness grip my chest again.

That, “oh god, please don’t leave because everyone has already left” kind of tight.

The kind of tight that silences my battlecries.

It raids my mind and purges all thoughts

That this could work

And that this could be real

And that this could last.

And I’m afraid that it will all be in vain.

That I will once again, be left to wander

The ins and outs of my explosive mind.

Toying with the thoughts of what could have been

If I had just said what you wanted me to say

Or did what you wanted me to do

Or been who you wanted me to be.

And most of all,

I’m afraid that you won’t fight with me.

That you’ll call back your forces and retreat.

And I will be left there,

Knife in my back and blood in my lungs.

They say love is s battlefield,

But this feels like a whole goddamn war.

So I’ll keep on dreaming and praying and wishing and hoping

That you’ll pick up your sword and fight.

Because I want you to fight.

I need you to fight.

Fo me.

For us.

For whatever we could be and what we could become.