Author Information
Fierce
I became difficult to control
the moment I stopped needing
permission to leave.
You were comfortable
when I carried all the weight
and still apologized for being tired.
I mistook survival
for love so many times
I almost called suffering home.
There was a version of me
that shrank itself just to fit inside
your comfort.
That person is gone now.
Not angry. Not cruel.
Just finally aware
that self-abandonment
is not devotion.
And isn't it strange-
the healthier I became,
the less access you felt entitled to.
