Sometimes it takes distance to bring fury. The way my mother boils thinking back to what my father said to his children When we still were children And she hid behind a glass of wine and solemnity. There's a quavering fire in her voice now when we talk about his **** fits replacing her quavering smallness from then.
When a lanky café singer who loved Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds Stole my breath … and something small and soft and white from me in a Monterey Monterey parking lot I cried I hid I scrubbed But you had better believe Now? I burn. It wasn't my fault his hands were warped and crusted with filth. His touching me did NOT make me filthy.
When the curly haired beauty with his biting, crinkling, smiling eyes that flash above his mischief mouth Poured all his sweetness onto me Just to have me shocked at the bruises Purple and green and sudden on the heels of his softness , I was lost and confused and blamed myself for his swaddle-****** blows But I found my brimstone, hours later Lapping at my lips after a cardboard confrontation Just because you have a vulnerable heart doesn't mean you have to be a coward. Clearly.