When the kisses and hand holding
got stronger
as that guy walked in the room.
As if my lips and fingers were
magnetically drawn to his body.
Like you were trying to save me.
When arguments and fights,
turned into "what are you going to do,"
"How will you fix it"
and "when will this stop?"
Like you were trying to help me.
When hugs and kisses became rewards
for the moments I didn't make you mad,
because even if it wasn't my fault
your hand never reached out to mine.
Like you were trying to save me.
But something kept me.
It wasn't attraction
or any form of love
but chains made to look like cuddles
holding me hostage in a place I was told was
true happiness.
I never knew hugging could be so much like a cage
I began mistaking suffocation
for comfort.
I should've left when
you held the door open
and told me to go,
but if I left
it was my decision.
I should've left you
when I learned the term
emotional abuse
and I had to convince myself
that I wasn't doing that to you,
but you were doing that to me.