The Invisible Line

I crossed it.
That line we walk so carefully.
I just stomped over it and kept going, fueled by the desire to be honest.
Wretchedly and self-servingly honest.
Of course, I was given a shove.
Nobody grabs the wheel and gets away with it!
The wheel, my life, my body.
I realized something this week.
I like sleeping alone, and I want to keep on liking it.
It took so long to enjoy an empty bed with no warm spots.
I used to fall asleep on the couch to avoid it,
and now! Wah-lah!
It's like I never slept beside anyone, ever!
I cannot recall the feeling of intimacy I used to miss.
And while I still feel broken and sad on the inside,
life keeps going on the outside and I can voice my feelings.
So it's better than silently laying there, eyes open, back turned.
Waiting for sleep. Waiting for space. Waiting for strength to be honest.
Now I just take it, striding over the line.

Does this make me a happy person? No.
Do I take pleasure in breaking someone's hope? No. Never.
But I know this:
I will know it when I know it. Until then I will be on guard.