I hate that I can be celebrated, for a pain that came from emasculation.
Like every breath I take, is restricted by an invisible weight.
And what’s crazy is, my doctors will praise me because I have lost some weight!
But the only thing I have lost seems to be my way.
Because she chose to leave, which in so many ways, allowed me to wander away.
It was in her refusal to have some accountability, that began to waterboard my masculinity.
It felt like drowning on dry land.
Screaming for help while my heart was drowned by quicksand.
But the further I got away from what I thought was a promised land, the louder the praise.
It crashed against my body like the countless pressure of endless waves.
I am determined to stand, because my heart was literally broken, by her ways.
No seriously, it was broken I can show you the X-rays.
Like I awoke on the table in the middle of surgery, only to be told how that shouldn’t be.
I had enough dope in me for seven fiends to sleep.
But I guess that just means that I was simply meant to be.
Meant to be by Gods’ design beautifully,
Intentionally; not by coincidence, or accident.
It’s still crazy to be praised, from a pain that all but drained a place that I though love reigned.
Forgive me for writing down my pain.