There’s shame in my resentment.
It burrows its way back into my heart and mind, if I let it.
WHEN I let it.
Like tendrils they pierce the flesh of every thought
as every negative memory of you plays on repeat in my head.
The warnings were there all along.
Love shouldn’t be a constant challenge.
A relentless going against the grain.
I knew so little of love.
How was I suppose to know.
With you, it always had been.
Our love was the undertow that pulled me beneath the waves and battered me.
Constantly pushing me through the molds you made for me.
Ripping away the portion that didn’t suit your needs.
Every time, a little less myself than I was before.
-Clary
Sarcastically Cynical 