How many times
can I say
No—
Not now,
Not yet,
Not ever—
before he finally leaves?
How many times
can he swallow the hurt,
hide the anger
before he spits it out
and chokes on it?

I wonder why
I always do this—
Is it cruelty?
Is it fear?
Or am I waiting for him
to see me
for what I am—
unreachable,
undeserving?

Each time
I twist the knife,
I tell myself
I want him to stay.
But what I want
is for him to break.

Maybe then
I’ll know
he felt something
close to love.

© reddragonfly