all those months ago,
you told me that
i don't get angry.
i don't have a temper.

you're right, you know.
i grew up
a target of anger.
anger was in my blood.
and that blood was a scarlet crosshairs
painted on my back,
a poison to my fragile skin.

my household was
the veritable entirety
of the world i knew.
it was ruled
with harsh words
not the words that make you angry
but the words that you say
and regret
and can't take back.

i was raised in
an intimate relationship
with the red-hot eyes of rage.

i know angry.
i know the rolling boil of your intestines.
i know the pressure in your chest
i know it well.

i know how to cool tempers
(a survival skill for my emotional state)
and i know how to rile them up.
i know how to play
the heartstrings of your fury.
if you asked me,
which emotion i knew best;
which state of mind i could best harness;
i would answer, simply
anger.

anger issues are
embedded deeply into my dna.
i've felt cloth pull
under my fingertips.
i've seen spots in my vision.
i've known the rise in your throat
the frustration squeezing
and refusing to let go.
i've felt anger.
i've received anger.
i've survived anger.
i've seen anger tear my family apart,
i've seen it linger and remain
even after apologies
like an unwanted curse,
determined to ruin me.
determined to ruin us.

i don't have a temper, by nature.
but every now and then,
it rises up in my chest.
but i've been oh so careful.
never would i want my anger
to hurt others.

i have the bruises on my wrist to prove it.

you once told me;
out of all the things in the universe
you could have told me;
you told me that
i'm not an angry person.

i've never felt so relieved
because the very last thing
i could ever want
was my fragile existence
painted with the curse of anger.

i refuse to let
the very thing
that ruined me all those years ago
cling to me like a parasite
and turn on those i love.

so thank you,
thank you because you
spoke it into existence.
by telling me those words
all those months ago,
you, while not breaking my curse,
confirmed it was broken.