Sometimes I think,
I should have stayed.
Til death do us part we vowed.
In sickness and in health.
Were there words about
not putting daggers in my soul, was there anything about not breaking me down until I forgot who I was?
Friday my therapist tells me, “remember who you are”.
I’ve spent the last four years remembering who you told me I was for twenty long years.
Too weak,
fat,
bad hair style,
wrong shoes,
bland cook,
messy in the kitchen
not good enough,
never good enough,
always wrong.
Who am I, I try to remember.
I try to reach deep inside and pull out the daggers one by one so my heart doesn’t bleed out.
I am strong.
I am capable.
I am desirable.
I am loved.
I am good enough.
**** it. I am all that and more.

And you? Nothing but a coward.
Even my leaving could not stop you from trying to destroy me.
But you didn’t count on me remembering who I am.
Did you?