What is this?

What is this?

Nuzzled against his chest,
my hand in his.
As I look back in time,
I remember when we were just friends,
and perhaps a little more.

It feels as though I fit perfectly,
like a puzzle piece in his arms
when he embraces me.
This memory brings back flooding memories,
along with a twinge of pain and regret.
Now, I feel so insignificant, so out of place,
like an ugly rafflesia flower
among a field of beautiful, luscious, white roses.

I wish with all my might,
but all good things must come to an end.
Another memory ambushes me,
as I lay dreaming.
I notice the crickets outside,
calling their mates.
I glance back at him,
but I cannot seem to understand.

He is bellowing at me,
and I am staring, stupidly gawking.
His beautiful face: doe brown eyes, delicate cheekbones
even for a strong man like him.
His plush lips, his graceful demeanor.

It all seems to fade away at the fact that he berates and belittles me now.

My brain and eyes focus,
and I feel the sudden urge.
Would it be so terrible to strike?
Conflicting emotional thoughts run through my head.
Could I break those delicate cheekbones?
I give a small shriek of defeat.
I cannot win this fight.
I cannot do this for so long.
I cannot fight the urge to run away and hide from my pain, my fear, my anger.

My mind switches gears, and I think:
I cannot give up.
I cannot lose.
I want to, I can, and I will.

My mind abruptly lists dozens of reasons
to do it,
and I finally kiss him, goodbye.