I’m not your slave anymore
You no longer own me
Why did I ever bow down to you in the first place?
Why did I ever indulge you?
All this time you were so much lower than me
Your torments
Accusations
Abuse
I put myself under house arrest
Hid myself from the world
Thinking it would make you happy
But in the end
We were both more miserable than we started
Why did I put myself through it?
Was it lust?
Maybe in the beginning...
Was in love?
The middle years perhaps,
And in the end…
It had to have been the loneliness and despair of growing old, and older
Am I so petty that the Stealers are more worth your time than I?
Am I so lowly that your last slut gets half of three different paychecks…
while I don’t even get a Christmas card?
What’s wrong with this picture?
There’s something awry with this frame…
Ah, that’s it.
You’re still in it.
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