The Wrestling Match

It's hard. This wrestle.

The grasping.

The slipping.

New tactics.

The push. The give.

The sweat. The grunts.

Expletives under the breath.

The new resolve.

Hours. Sighs. Desperation.

My shoulder grabs.

I will not let go. You can not hold me.

But you have a death-vice grip.

Let go. No. LET GO. NO.

I push back. Push against. I kick and I strain.

Do you remember who I am?

I am not who you think.

I push against. Pounding heart.

Fear and distrust are present. 

I need this control.

I can not be hurt again.

I will not be hurt again.

I bite my lip. I taste blood.

I love you.

What does that even mean?

I have a purpose for you.

I have heard that before. 

Do not give me false hope.

I am for you.

Sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth.

I am with you.

I will protect you wherever you go.

Flash of stars.

Slipping. Tiring. 

Stop fighting.

One last...

I am not forcing you into anything.

But you need to know I will not let go.

Surrender.

Clam starts to open.

Light dawns through the crack.

Fresh breath.

Head back. Mouth open.

Surprise.

Sensation from head. Shoulders. Fingers.

Wait.

Who are you?