• Gabrielle Archambault

When the lights wouldn't turn on

I swear I'm fine. It's just that I've been trying to turn on the lights for weeks. Maybe it's a bad comparason for my incapacity to enjoy a man's hands on my body. When I told him about what happened to me, he said he would do whatever it takes to protect me. As much as I love him for saying that what I wanted to hear was I will give you all the time it takes. Because they are my cuts to stitch and not his to put a band-aid on. How long can I keep him in the dark ? I fear that the moment I tell him I have no idea when I will be ready is the moment he leaves. He treats me as if I was a tea cup left a little bit over the edge of a table. Some people choose to look away and ignore what makes them feel useless. He chose to learn how to breathe while the hand of my past was choking him. So when I say that the lights are off and I need them to stay that way, he pretends his eyes still haven't adjusted to the dark yet and swears he can't see anything. When I say I'm home, sitting on my bathroom floor having a bad day, he comes to the funeral, dressed in black and lies in my bathtub. Up until now I have ignored the fact that maybe one day there will be no going back. If I don't let him in now he will get tired of knocking on the door and forget he could try the bell. When he kisses me and pries my mouth open, I pray that he won't taste the apologies I've been preparing in case he calls my bluff when I tell him I completely trust him. Right now I have a finger on the switch but I've just found a million reasons why I shouldn't turn it on.

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