The house

In the house we sat in the middle where nothing but a table sat in front of us. We couldn’t move. We had to sit & be forced to look at each other. Cuffed by chains we tried to break free. Over time we knew why this was our prison. We finally understood why this kind of torture was needed. We never took the time to talk & we always ran away. We had no other choice but to lay it out on the table. You cried & said “why did I stop loving you?” I realized I helped with your hurt. I looked with pain in my eyes & asked “why did you put me in a position to do so?” Whats hurts more being bound by chains? or being bound by your hatred for someone?
 (Put it all on the table or be bound to do it.)