It was offered. 

It was proffered. 

It was extended with all the realness in the world, 

A true heart, so taken that the unforeseen rejection scarred it forever. 

And you’d given it hope, before you took it away,

Torn in your mind, torn in your chest, 

Your predilection for the worst of men in your way again, 

Misjudging so heavily that you finally created what it was you feared, 

First in your own mind, then, by betrayal, in an illusion of action by a heart in despair. 

But you’ve known it now, just as you still know who he really is behind your unearned hatred, 

You’ve known the intensity of real love, the kind that can make a person temporarily insane. 

And when your predilections lead you to another, one more shallow child with expensive toys, an impressive job, handed to him through his daddy, 

Though he wines and dines you, as he would any client, though he buys you diamonds and cars and makes you his paramour … nothing more … in a great estate, 

You will not be able to ignore the lack of passion in his words, no matter how he desires you physically at first, or feigns to, and the material will hold no more sway, 

As your heart will hear nothing but a puling two-year old in need of a mother, a possession, a territory, a toy, 

As you were to those in the past, a broodmare, something to control, something to abuse, something to demean, maybe in scandalous ways of which you never speak, someone to just have around, 

Though you once thought it your place, your duty, you now know better, know it is not a destiny but a choice, 

And you will know always that, if you need to be subservient to fulfill your childhood brainwashing, the social control masquerading as faith, 

You should have taken the heart that loved you unconditionally, and been subservient to that love, given yourself to it wholly and felt its power, 

Known that the heart that was true would have taken you at your worst and would have placated your desires with a fire you’ve never known, only interested in your pleasure. 

You will know that you turned your back on something real and the puling words of the same as before will never be able to satiate you again.

And then you will remember, as you will never be able to forget, no matter how far you run, that you made that love your enemy, a love worth more than any diamond, and no amount of money, no amount of emotionless sex, no amount of pretend will ever fill that void. 

Souls touched bare, ever so briefly, and that can never be undone.