They say if you love someone
you should set them free.
I didn't ask to be freed.
A hand let go
and called it mercy
like I was a wounded animal
being put down
for my own good.
I wasn't trapped.
I was staying.
A future I was fighting for
was taken----
a life I hadn't finished
imagining
stopped breathing
without my consent.
Now I walk around
filled with emptiness---
nothing holding me,
nothing choosing me.
If freedom is a gift,
why can't I feel
its presence?
About the Creator
Tina D. Lopez
I have a lot of silly things (some dark things) inside my head, so I write them down. Sometimes they turn into poems.
My book Love Ain’t No Friend of Mine is available on Amazon. https://a.co/d/6JYBmLH
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More stories from Tina D. Lopez and writers in Poets and other communities.
December 8, 1980
When I was six or seven, my stepdad came into my life, and I remember thinking he knew everything. He could befriend anybody, anywhere. In grocery stores, he chatted with strangers over cuts of meat; at gas stations, he bonded with people pumping fuel over how the smell of gasoline was disgusting and yet enjoyable. In restaurants, he took an interest in waiters’ lives—like Steve, whose father was dying of cancer. When Steve’s dad died, my new dad attended the funeral.
By Tina D. LopezExclusive • 13 days ago
Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly5 days ago in Fiction
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