for centuries women have fought tooth and nail to be able to take care of ourselves because it is a privilege. when you can change your own oil and fix your own plumbing you don’t have to worry about being stuck with a man who beats you into submission. women who can change tires and gouge eyes out don’t waste time covering bruises with foundation or hiding dollar bills between pages of books in hopes that one day they’ll have enough to change their name in a new town. no. not all men are like this. just enough for me to be afraid. to clutch my keys between my fingers whenever i leave my house alone. enough for me to invest in pepper spray. i haven’t always known how to take care of myself.
The worst thing about abusers is they aren’t always abusive. There are enough good days to balance out the bad and it’s almost too easy to feel guilty for focusing on the things that need improving or speaking up for what you need. You’re not crazy for wanting more and you aren’t ungrateful for making your needs met. If a relationship is not mutually beneficial, it is not the one for you. Find someone who will make a continuous effort to give you everything you deserve without making it seem like a burden.
there is a fire in my soul.
clawing at the walls inside my ribs
for me to let her out and there is a hurricane
resting at the base of my throat
waiting for me to let her free.
she is waiting for the day i release her
from my grasp and everyone will finally know
the power ebbed and flowing just beneath the
surface of my small frame.
only then will she be allowed to scream
all the things i’ve been holding back from saying
in fear your small beings would not be able
to comprehend them.
and you will know that i am she who offers life.
i am she who made you who you are,
who let you have this moment of joy,
and i am she who will wash it away.
in one swift kick, all the lies you’ve built up
around you, this house of cards you choose to
call home, will come tumbling down
around your soiled feet.
and you will know that i am god
by the way i build you a castle made of stone
one that will withstand earths mightiest rumblings.
a place for you and the girl you replaced me with
even the parents who berated me for telling them
what you’d done.
you will know that i am god
by the way i hold myself. you will see the light
pouring out of me and you will ask me
to tell you my secret.
how did i recover so magnificently?
but i will not answer. not today. not for you.
There are rocks in my throat
small with jagged edges
They are making a game
of churning the food in my stomach
and taunting it to come back up
“None shall pass”
Is what they say to the oxygen molecules
trying to find my lungs
They are begging me not to forget
the feeling of your hands on my skin
They sing songs debating who’s fault it is
as I press my palms to my forearms
throw out anything sharp or pointy
and swallow the sobs
that only remind me of you
“He will come back” Is what they scream
“He will bring a gun and this time
he will finish what he started”
As I turn the lights out at night
There are rocks in my throat
ans they want me to keep hurting
but they don’t know me
or the fire I breathe
when my wounds are ready to heal
I hate the little mannerisms
I’ve picked up from you.
I picture your face now
everytime I say “oof”
and I can hear your voice
saying how much you love
that I speak like you.
Every. Single. Time.
It makes me sick.
But I still can’t manage
to hold the words in.
Especially not the ones
that remind me of you.
I’m beginning to think
you tore the zipper from my mouth
the night you pretended
not to know what it means
when a person tells you no.
I am broken. Shattered.
Hurt because I saw
the way you treated the others.
I knew you would do the
same things to me, and I
chose to love you anyway.
drag your nails across my back.
make me bleed out all the ways
those before you left me gutted
when they went without a sound.
tear away the tattoos on my skin
and kiss the bruises,
making them your own.
-if my body can’t be mine, maybe it can be yours