You call it love
But it feels like control
When you intervene, interrupt, interfere, intrude,
Eager to influence experiences
You call it safety
But it feels like threat
This constant undermining of the desire for space,
Of the need to live life on one’s own terms
You call it selflessness
But it feels like suffocation
Like an obligation, a burden tying one to apron strings
That are too wily to cut
Is this how love is supposed to manifest?
It is unendurable…
If it breaks a spirit
How can we call it love?
*Image generated by AI