The circus

Curtains slowly close, indicating the end of a show. Blinders concealing the lights of the stage of life we have been performing for the past two years. Was it a dance? Slow, sweet and intimate. Was it a musical? Melody melding together with our very souls. Was it a poem? Aligning me with my inner power. Was it a game of cards? Where I watched you cheat in the name of counting wins. Was it a thriller? Where the villain rips my heart through my chest.

And as the lights dim, the excitement dying, adrenaline levels go down, leaving my knees weak. My heart rate slowing back to normal. Uncertainty washes over me. And I start questioning my role on that stage. Could I have done better. Gave more than I already did. Exuded more energy than you asked for. Maybe left a piece of my soul to that bond in the hopes of reviving it.

Could I have done better by guarding my heart. Protecting my aura, cleansing my energy. Said no and meant it. Read all the red flags right and saw them for exactly what they were.

Truth is, I never really knew what we were performing at that stage. One minute it was a tango, twisting our hips to the music and the next you were switching me for another dance partner. We were swaying in a slow dance, my head on your chest, contemplating how lucky we were, bonding like the notes in an opera and then you were gone again like you were never there.

The switch confusing, frustrating, hurting but most of all scary. You lifting me so high into the clouds only to drop me unto the rocky earth. Reality setting in. The crash, a light bulb, vividly exposing who you really are. Peeling off your pretences, lies, malice and dishonesty layer by layer. Uncovering a powerless man feeding off of inflicting pain. Enjoying the thrill of the chase, a predator on the hunt for prey. A monster who keeps taking and taking without giving nothing back.

But I am mature enough to accept and recognize that I stepped on your feet during that waltz, lost rythm during that two step and bumped into you. I am mature enough to know that my steps weren't perfect and that I needed practice.