My vision is blurred by the rhythm of my racing heart beat

A vibration of distortion that's neither rhythmic nor on beat

My heart is out of sync

My arms hang heavy at my sides with what were clenched fists, now relaxed into effortless curled fingers.

One brow is split open from the swings and the blood is dripping down in one eye while the other is nearly swollen shut. I can't ignore the pain of the bruises and the whelps this fight has left on me and they feel so deep that I wonder if they'll ever fade

But then I hear you – even though I'm surrounded by people, it's been such a long, lonely summer.

Your voice is calling to me from the corner as I lay on the ropes, as I consider giving up.

'Get back in there!' you scream, strained, and I can only hear it as a whisper.

I try to see you from so far away, the refs count the only obvious thing I can comprehend.

SEVEN, he yells

I focus on your face

The face that found me and smiled

I remember when I decided being happy was a possibility, a real thing. I had the flavor of cinnamon ice cream still lingering on my tongue and a vodka at my hand and your smiling face in front of me. A bag of sour candy in my purse.

I move to one knee – EIGHT, he yells.

I think of the glorious moments we spent together. Endless nights binging TV and kisses in each others arms. I keep my eyes focused on your face and I try to read your lips and I swear you just told me not to give up as I push myself into a full stance.

I suck a large breath of oxygen into my cramping lungs, sweat slipping into my mouth and all I can think of is tequila shots with salt and lime and a love that burns inside of us with more fire than we thought could exist.

I hold on to you. To your 'kiss me' puckered lips in the most random moments. I hold on to your hand in mine, if only in my memory, and I turn to my opponent with my gloves up just as the ref yells – NINE.

And there you are again – gloved, dead-eyed.

You're both my greatest love and my greatest opponent.

The body that once gave me the only comfort I've ever known. That gave me such ecstasy is now ready and willing to put me on the ground.

To be the end of me.

You're bowed up and barely breathing hard as my legs tremble with my first step back into the ring.

I look from the you in front of me now – stone cold and deadly – to the you from my past, still in my corner and you're both looking back at me with a grin.

A grin from the man that loved me beyond reason – God how I miss him and the future we should have had – and I step closer to the you with the grin that seems to enjoy me like this. With the smile that doesn't quite reach his emotionless eyes.

Well here I am.

Hurt and broken down, bleeding in your hands, coming back for more.

Still fighting.

Giving you my all like I swore to you I would when I said I would never leave you.

I hope you stop fighting; the last hit put me down for almost too long.

But if you have to swing at me again, make this the one that ends me, because though I can probably keep taking the beating, what's really killing me is that for the you in my corner, the one that's from my past and the one that I'll love through absolutely any fire – to that man I'm just another let down if I can't win this fight.

If stepping back into this ring means stepping right back into another heavy blow, I hope he sees that I'm not giving up, I'm just giving in.