I let you cheat on me. That was my foolishness and my weakness, and really, my failure. And in allowing that, I allowed you to open up this great wound of sorrow in my most deepest place; I let you wound my soul, cleave it in two, never, ever to be whole again.
So you, and all of the yous of my future, I won’t let you in. I can’t. I don’t know how anymore.
And if you get near, if you by some trickery draw close enough to that place I now know I must protect at all cost (because it remains an open wound, a bleeding pocket of puss and distemper), I will leave you.
I will leave you before you leave me.