Surrender Was the Only Honest Thing That Week
Everything else was lies by omission. Only on my knees was I telling the truth about what I wanted.
That week I lied about mileage, about lunches, about why my lipstick changed brands.
Only with him I did not lie. I knelt. I said I want this. I said slower. I said stop. I said again.
Surrender was the only contract I signed with my real name.
He did not save me. He witnessed me.
I went back to ordinary cruelty—the kind where nobody yells, they just stop asking.
I kept Thursday appointments like church.
Some women pray. I surrender and call it survival.
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