Was it because I said yes? And if so, which yes was it? After that early no, which capitulation was the one? Was it when you said I’m happy to cool it, but how ‘bout we share a red next week? Or when you said can I see your tattoo? Was it the acquiescence as I slid off my dress and closed my eyes … was it how my layers looked on the floor?
Was it because you said we don’t connect then pressed me up against the wall. Was it when you said do you mind if I contact you here? or when you pushed me, crying, out the door. Was it when you said I’ll be there at 6 and I waited till 9. The birthday you ruined? How we played in the dirt? How I sought your mouth when you turned away. And walked home alone in the dark, every time?
Was it because I said yes! always, despite. Was my affirmation to you an abdication? Did I hand back the crown you had bestowed, did I end up at your feet not the other way round? Did this play dutifully to your dichotomy – was the seventh sin an abnegation? Tell me exactly which capitulation was the one? To absolve you of care when you corroded my heart (while carefully plating over your own).
A thousand wagging fingers might concur – but love, it was only you when the lights went out.
Image: Joanne Piechota