Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Victim

She is a fucking warrior -
This girl with rope burns around her wrists.
She’s been constrained for twenty-two years,
And tonight she will sever the ties.

She will not walk away empty handed
For the tension in the room
Could be knifed out, scooped up, and pocketed.

His broken promises have left splinters on her tongue
And his fists gave bruises to her cheeks.
She knows she deserves better,
But she will thank him anyway.
A man must be compassionate to stop when he is begged.

Her heart is black with dust.
He has left it sitting there on the counter-top
Since the day that she forgot to iron
His Navy button-down.
Her knees are dry from kneeling before him
In apology.

But one foot in front of the other –
She will walk away from this.
She will attempt to belie the affect that he has had on her.
Claiming that his reaches are not never-ending.

She will wake up one day,
Without his fingers wrapped around her throat.
Using a voice that is hers, and hers only. 
Even “Goodbye” sounds better with freedom.

And when she goes,
She will find her way back to me –
The thump-thump-thump of my heart
Beating out the path for her to follow.
Because I never left.
And I never will.

I will apply bandages to the things that are broken.
I’ll apply pressure to open wounds,
But none to her decisions.

I’ll allow her to find herself in open space.
Watch as she collapses
For the fiftieth time.
And will use my heart to soften the blow.

I will love her, as she has loved him.
I will hold her in my heart, as she has held him.
And I shall long for her, just as she has always longed for him.

Entirely and without return.
A servant to the heart.
A victim to the fall.  

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