Say it right

I don't know what I would do if something happened to him. I have dreams and thoughts and hurt feelings and all of it winds down to "what if he was gravely injured or outright killed?" and I think my heart may stop at the thought. The anger and pain and longing I feel is tantamount to every great and sad story where love is the primary focus.   I want to be free, I want to be totally utterly, undeniably free. I want to wipe my memory; never find another thing funny that he would find funny, never accidentally remember a silly quirk and smile, never remember how stupid and worthless I felt at his mercy. Bury the pictures by the pond in the park after a dry spell and hope the rain comes and further impresses their watery exile. Omeprazole keeps the ache at bay, I wake up acid burning and his night time ritual of shaking two tablets loose comes as searing a pain as the one in my chest. Run as fast as you can, don't be that woman that turns around and looks back. I'll be a pillar of salt before I would let anything happen to him though, really.