‘Babe, are you sure?’ my best friend asked.
I nod back staring at the courthouse.
‘He took you away
Ripped you from us
Babe, are you sure?’ she asked.
My mind flashed back
To, in the beginning, a dark time.
Dark voice whispering coldly,
‘Come with me now!’
Dark eyes glistened,
Sometimes with anger,
Sometimes with a smirk,
But most of all, guilt
Dark eyes shone with guilt
Long slender hands holding me hostage
I was with him for days.
Yes, he broke me
Yes, he bound me
But he also made me love him
‘And no,’ I said firmly when my best friend asked
‘It’s not Stockholm Syndrome’
I genuinely love him
And if our final moments together
Was anything to go by, he loved me too
Or dark voice wouldn’t have whispered soothingly
Or dark eyes wouldn’t have glistened so lovingly
Or long , slender hands wouldn’t have entwined our fingers together.
And then he was gone, ripped away from me.
‘Babe, are you sure?’ my mom asked
I nod from my seat in the courthouse,
I loved him, I loved…him, no, I love him.
So when the judge asked,
‘Miss, is this the man who kidnapped you?’
I looked at him, staring at his feet
Shoulders stumped in defeat and sadness
I took a deep breath, ‘No’ I said.
Surprised eyes with a hint of hope and joy snapped up to me.
But I couldn’t look back at him.
‘No, its not Stockholm Syndrome’
I said to myself again
Once outside, he broke away from the cops
Rushing towards me
Dark voice whispered, ‘Babe are you sure?’ I nod
Dark eyes gazed at me
With joy, with hope, with love
Long slender hands held my face
Delicately, but firmly
And then he was gone again
But this time, our parting was with a promise
‘I’ll find you,’ dark voice called
‘I love you,’ dark eyes said
‘Bye,’ long slender hands waved
‘No, it’s not Stockholm Syndrome