Whatever connection we shared
is now broken;
damaged beyond repair.
That realization
should fill me with dread,
tearing apart
everything inside me.

But instead,
this realization brings relief.
Like seeing the snake
for what it was.

For so long,
I mistook its coil
for comfort.
Mistook possession
for protection.
Mistook venom
for love.

Your words
slipped beneath my skin,
slow and subtle,
poisoning me
one drop at a time.
I carried it everywhere.
Around my throat
like a collar.
Beneath my ribs
like a second heartbeat.

In every doubt,
every apology,
every piece of myself
I made smaller.

The bite was never what hurt most.
It was the sickness that followed.
The way your poison
convinced me
I needed it to survive.

But venom cannot nourish.
It spreads.

So I broke free.
Like antivenom
moving through blood,
undoing the damage.
Like sunlight
reaching places
kept dark for too long.

Whatever connection we shared
is broken now.
And I am grateful.

The snake is gone.
And at last,
I am becoming
my own cure.