Before you ask somebody to be vulnerable, make sure you ask yourself, “can I take it?” Don’t open a soul and leave it hanging. Don’t pick a sore and let it fester, it hurts. You assured me you had my healing, but after your touch, I was worse off. The truth is you’ll be broken and people will come into your life just to break you more, as if a spear wasn’t enough they’ll bring a dagger just to make sure.
In the beginning, they will have the nerve to say “tell me about yourself” as if an explanation of your exploits will make them reconsider doing you dirty, and somehow it sounds so convincing and it feels like your eureka moment so you go on and on spilling the details like some spellbound fool. So when the sweet turns sour, my words are used against me, after you looked me in my eyes with my heart in your hand and swore you wouldn’t criticize. But instead, you played the narcissistic trinity, the judge, the jury, and council; you made it seem like whatever the verdict it was already my decree.
I should have been warned that I was fire flirting with ice, that soon I would lose my heat, and you your cool. Regardless of all the hurt, you showed I still wanted more, but salt and pepper ain’t seasoning and that’s all you had to offer, leaving me partially flavored in places I wanted to feel sweet. Manufacturing emotions you could not slake. Desiring openness you could not take but you kept me open while you hid, you had access to me while you remained blurred. Why hold out one hand knowing you had a knife in the other?
My heart is left longing for a closeness it would not feel, my mind longing for peace it might not get. So many questions unanswered and answers unquestioned. But how much more than deceit can you expect from the son of a serpent? I’ll translate that into money then at least I’ll feel like I earned something from being the fool’s fool. Like a day’s wage in servitude.
Now all I can think of is a way to fix it so I pray to God but I’m reminded that love is free will and even He can’t force it. And if love is letting you go, I’m willing to prove it; if love is ripping my heart out of my chest to save you from bitter grace I’m on the cross already. Because blessed is I who lay down my love for my lover who wouldn’t love me back. So wherever it ends we’ll call it a game…fool me one time but never three.
Authored by: Leesha Ginger Greene
Featured Image by: Alexander Popov on Unsplash
