Funny, isn't it,
how sometimes our strength is
what makes us feel weakest?
I did the right thing.
I pulled away.
I let go.
I said stop.
I. Did. The. Right. Thing.
So why do I feel like I did something wrong?
Life is a series of decisions.
We make our choices -
Or do they make us? -
and we learn to live with the consequences.
We learn.
Your mouth on mine
Your hands on my body
Your voice whispering my name
These things were wrong.
I know this.
My mouth on yours
My hands on your body
My voice whispering your name
These things felt right.
I know this.
How do I draw that line
between right and wrong when
I can't even see where I stand?
I suppose that there really is a dreadful irony about this poem or, indeed, the situation.
People who are strong mentally often have to make tough decisions, but being strong doesn't mean we do not suffer because of those decisions.
That saying about 'the right way isn't the easiest' comes to mind. Your strength is doing the right thing, but the right thing is often tough to bear.