I relive that night. Over and over.
It haunts my sleeping hours. Such gentle caresses turned quickly to claws tearing at my flesh.
And you are changed. You do not - cannot! - love me now. You, so open, so tender; as vulnerable as I had ever seen you. And I, so crippled by unfathomable fear.
I write us a new ending. Over and over.
But the wrong cannot be written away in this miserable reality we endure now. You're with me in body, but the soul, the soul I was so privileged to hold some claim to... you snatched it back, out of sight.
I cannot have you if I will not offer up myself in return.
So we reach a stalemate - not retreating, nor advancing. To retreat is to lose every piece of you, which I, selfishly, cannot bear. But isn't it time to admit defeat?
No. With the stalemate you invoke your right to punish me with your unerring goodness.