Let Me Tell You

I cannot tell just the one story, only three
Chained together as one, him and you and me,
Bound by our actions, a trio forever are we
In those years when we should have been free.

Was I your lover truly or was I just your bitter sun, your Marisol?
We were Humbert Humbert and Lolita. Shall we talk about control?

But first, this poem is contrite, the rhyming a cliché.
I’m not trying to be cute, so I’m just going to say…

I gave you everything, filled your hands with my emotional kryptonite.
You let it glitter there, shepherding me toward disaster with a smile.
You sang siren songs in my head, finished my sentences, read my mind.
Every second you called me closer and closer, called me your own,
Made your will mine with the hypnotic magic of pretty late night words.
I didn’t need you; until you made me believe in threats I could not see.
You crippled me with condescending care until I could not stand alone,
Until I felt I owed you and I paid dearly with everything I had ever been.

My memories of your touch are violent and filled with darkness.
I never really saw because I shut my eyes tight against your actions.
I didn’t think I had asked for any of it, but some would say I did
In words and clothes and gestures that carried meaning I knew not.
I thought it was a nightmare. You thought it was a gift you were giving.

You forced our bodies together in front of everybody that we knew
After I asked for discretion. You lime lit my disgrace before them all,
Including him whom we hurt. His eyes clouded and he turned away.
He refused to display his pain with the dignity you are ever lacking.

You didn’t want me walking wild around other boys, afraid I’d run.
Your hand was a shackle around my wrist, your arm around my waist.
I guess deep down you knew I was not yours to keep, even then.
Halloween, the trick of control is to make it look like a treat. You failed.
I spent the night closing in. I fell asleep beside him. He didn’t touch me.
You know precisely why this matters. I won’t lie. It was a really big deal.

You told me what to wear on the date that never was.
Red and black dress, painted lips and eyes, high heels,
You wanted us to be a matching set on a special night.
Was that supposed to persuade me of something?

To you I was not perfect just the way I was. To him I am.
To you I was a possession that you had the right to handle.
With you I wore a sheath of sickness, filth, conflict, and shame.
My self-image was reflected in a cracked and doubtful mirror.
I remember feeling guilt, revulsion, anger, and self-disgust.
I do not remember feeling love.

Not any more.

I’m not stumbling in the dark, falling over my pain and calling it love.
Every moment with him is a moment where I am living my life alive.

He makes me coffee and knows how I like it.
He makes me laugh and knows how I like that too.

When he doesn’t know, he asks. When I say no, he holds me in sleep,
An embrace more intimate than any sexual act. Our dreams overlap.
Ours is an equal exchange, a heart for a heart and no sexpectations.
I want him. We choose each other every day because of love, not fear.
He is my Fox and I, his Rose, roles so clear that they sparkle in the light.

The irony is, I couldn’t have found him without you.
It took the beast in you to drive a damsel-me to him.
So it was, just know we three may never truly unwind.
Thank you for helping me see exactly what I had to find.