I don’t want to fight

I don’t want to fight, but you punish my honesty with silence and absence.

I don’t want to fight, but I hear so much in the things you’re not saying.

I don’t want to fight, but you’ve been dropping balls left and right.

I don’t want to fight, but you’re suddenly too busy for everyday things and only give me vague excuses and thinly constructed lines about why.

I don’t want to fight, but I’m drowning in the missed appointments, forgotten errands, and chores that I know are left undone.

I don’t want to fight, but I can’t bring myself to remind you one more time to breathe and smile and show up.

I don’t want to fight, but I feel like your side of the room is suddenly pitch black.

I don’t want to fight, but I can no longer pretend it’s not happening.

I don’t want to fight, but I need this to stop.

I don’t want to fight, but I know I’m going to have to use words that will crack our foundation.

I don’t want to fight, but I don’t think I have any other choice.