Poison.

There was a poison in your breath, it was subtle, it was hidden behind kind words and reassuring looks. It was like a smoky air wrapped up tightly within a mason jar, anxious to escape.

Naturally with time,  the once fiercely rigid lid would become loosened and the poison would slowly, silently escape. Without warning, the brew, it would strike me

SLAP

and just as quickly, it would be gone again.

It’s difficult to explain; this invisible, odourless hold you had over me. Convincing me I was simply mistaken, I was the silly one, the ridiculous one, just for that one moment, that was enough to make me not only feel, but to believe that I was the bad one.

I fought it sometimes. I tried to be strong,

“I’m not giving in this time.”

I’d pull at it’s gnarly, whiskery grip around me and try to free myself, but this gave the poison it’s potent strength, this fed it, it became larger than me, stronger, leaner. It’s veins pulsated with potential.  It became clear that it was feasting on my fire. I was the poison. Well, at least part of me, was part of it.

Because I fought back.

Over time I realised, having encountered the poison many times, that this unwanted guest needed me. Without me, it did not exist, without me it had no fuel. Without me, the jar would be broken and the poison would be incomplete.

So, I removed a vital ingredient.

Me.

I broke the jar.

I let the poison out.

I turned a blind eye. Without me the poison cannot exist.

I don’t taste the poison anymore, I don’t smell it or taste it in the air.

No more poison.

Poison.

Gone.

 

 

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