Natasha Elizabeth Beatrice Williams

How I've grown.
How I've grown to love this thing inside me.
It's strange, we hate each other.
And yet.. And yet.

I dream of us talking.
Her holding my hand, stroking my hair.
This a new game?
This something to trick me?

She's wanted ‘out' from the start.
Does she want me to let her?
But.. If I love her, why would I?
If this is a new game, she loses either way.

I'm confused.
She mothers me now.
She knows we're both beaten.
She knows we're both bruised.

The bruises make for better conversation.
Has she finally given in?
My pain is still there.
It's hard to give up, when your habit is fighting.

But.. Even then..

How I've grown.
How I've grown to love this thing inside me.
It's strange, we hate each other.
And yet.. And yet.