The truth is: I’m not his and I never was. Love is something different, it never need be false.
The truth will set me free, but I find little peace in the time between telling the truth and actually getting free. In that space of working free, the air is thin and it’s hard to breathe. It’s uphill with the him hot on my trail. He, relentless, presses on as his lungs easily fill with air. I have to stay far ahead if I want to survive, to get free. The truth is: survival and freedom, somewhere along the way, became the same.
To my love, please hold me in your heart, as I leave here, alone, and head out. In your love I learned the meaning of freedom. Your love set me free — this I know to be true.
~emotional truth and literal fiction~