For a month you freed me of—
but now I am the center of the whirlpool, the very current my mother warned me of as a young child each time I entered the ocean.
It is just as she said it would be—
A current so strong, you can’t swim out of.
I narrow my eyes, send red beams shooting at it, but it thrives inspite of me, continues to tug at my limbs and all I have to do is let it, some days I almost do because it would be easy to be twirling, drenched in the ocean of anger, resentment, envy
But then I remember that sunny southern California coast upon which I sat, waves crashing at my feet, safely caressed by the exact current which I was warned against.
And I steady my breath, the current loosens its grip, sensing my fight
Not quite ready to be completely free of each other, we stay in our limbo of a relationship, sometimes tightly drowning, sometimes almost swimming.
