The Fight

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Sometimes I catch myself forgetting to breathe and then gasping desperately for those needed breaths as if they aren’t within my lungs’ reach. Sometimes I find myself longing for you in a way that’s so foreign from any feeling I’ve ever known, turning those butterflies of mine into stones. Carrying a weight so burdensome that I wish like hell I could return these emotions to wherever they originated from. Yet, here I am, still questioning the idea of what all of this could someday become. Sometimes, late at night, I catch myself running through dramatic scenarios like broken records in my head. Of you giving into your fears of opening up and me just choosing to let you be scared. Of me searching desperately for love in those eyes of yours or of you chasing after me as I make my Oscar-worthy tearful exit through steel doors. It was insane and to some degree so was I. Failing miserably to push these feelings back inside. It was gruesome to watch as they literally poured themselves out of me, unrelenting, leaving a disgusting trail absolutely reeking of inability. And yet, here I am, drenched. Drowning in love, sweat, and fears doing a synchronized fight for my life of sorts all because I may never be able to speak the words, “I’m yours.”

With Love,

Brittni Pope

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